LIB***1 

University 
California 
Irvine 


Wilmer  Atkinson 

An   Autobiography 


FOUNDER  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 


PHILADELPHIA 

WILMER  ATKINSON  COMPANY 
1920 


COPYRIGHT,    I93O.  BY  ANNA  ALLEN  ATKINSON 


PRINTED   BY  J.   B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

AT  THE  WASHINGTON  SQUARE  PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA,  U.  S,  A. 


TO 

MY  WIFE 

TO 

MY  DAUGHTERS 

TO 

EVERYBODY 


'-*  451347 


Now  understand  me  well :  It  is  provided  in  the 
essence  of  things  that  from  any  fruition  of  success, 
no  matter  what,  shall  come  forth  something  to  make 
a  greater  struggle  necessary. — WALT  WHITMAN. 


FOREWORD 

"  IN  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death."  While 
our  dearly-beloved  husband  and  father  was  engaged  in 
writing  this  autobiography,  he  was  suddenly  stricken 
with  influenza,  succumbing  twelve  days  later  to  that 
much-dreaded  disease — pneumonia. 

Never  had  he  appeared  happier  than  during  the 
six  months  previous,  while  engaged  in  writing  this 
history  of  his  life.  In  a  recent  letter  to  a  friend  he 
wrote :  "  I  have  had  great  fun  in  writing  the  book 
and  the  easiest  part  now  is  to  come — a  review  of 
what  I  have  written  and  some  notes  at  the  bottom, 
three  or  four  topics  only."  It  was  his  desire  to  have 
the  book  in  the  hands  of  the  printer  by  his  eightieth 
birthday,  or  June  thirteenth,  and  the  book  is  so  dated. 
As  a  fact,  he  laid  down  his  pen  for  the  last  time  on  April 
twenty-eighth,  passing  into  the  Larger  Life  on  May 
tenth.  We  have  chosen  to  let  the  date  stand  as  he  had 
written  it,  not  wishing  to  change  anything  whatso- 
ever, excepting  in  a  few  instances  where  it  was  found 
to  be  absolutely  necessary. 

It  has  been  hard  for  us  to  reconcile  ourselves  to 
the  fact  that  he  was  not  permitted  to  live  to  see  the 
book  published,  but  we  can  be  but  thankful  that  it 
was  sufficiently  far  advanced,  including  the  selection 
of  the  illustrations,  for  us  almost  to  complete  it. 
Three  chapters  remained  to  be  written,  namely: 
"  Golden  Wedding  Anniversary,"  "  Work — Play — 
Rest — Sleep — Moderation — Health — 'Longevity  "  and 
"  Observations  of  an  Octogenarian." 

He  had  begun  to  revise  the  manuscript  from  the 
beginning,  intending  to  write  the  final  chapters 

ix 


FOREWORD 

above  mentioned  just  before  placing  the  book  in 
the  hands  of  the  printer.  The  first  two  chapters 
had  been  labelled  "  perfected  copy,"  and  should  be 
thus  considered. 

Because  the  writing  of  the  book  afforded  him 
such  absorbing  happiness  and  because  it  was  our 
great  pleasure  and  privilege  to  share  this  happiness 
with  him,  eagerly  we  now  send  the  book  forth  in  the 
hope  that  it  may  convey  to  its  readers  somewhat  of 
his  optimistic  spirit,  ambition  and  high  ideals  that 
actuated  his  life  and  work. 

As  he  was  ever  ready  to  give  battle  to  the  prob- 
lems that  beset  his  earthly  career,  so  now,  we  believe, 
he  is  meeting  the  responsibilities  of  the  Newer  Life, 
and  its  opportunities  for  richer  growth  and  greater 
service,  with  the  same  abiding  faith  and  high  courage 
which  so  characterized  his  daily  life. 

The  following  lines  on  the  subject  of  immor- 
tality by  Henry  Van  Dyke  were  found  with  his 
manuscript  (which  views  we  know  he  also  held)  : 
"  There  is  only  one  way  to  get  ready  for  immortality, 
and  that  is  to  love  this  life  and  live  it  as  bravely  and 
faithfully  and  cheerfully  as  we  can." 

Before  closing  this  "  Foreword,"  acknowledg- 
ment should  be  made  to  his  nephews,  Charles  F. 
Jenkins  and  Arthur  H.  Jenkins,  assisted  by  various 
others  of  the  "  Farm  Journal  Family,"  for  the  indis- 
pensable and  sympathetic  aid  rendered  by  them  in 
the  technical  labor  and  artistic  arrangement  of 
the  book. 

We  thank  them  and  you. 


His  WIFE  AND  DAUGHTERS. 


Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania, 
June,  1920. 


When  all  is  said,  he  that  writes  a  book  runs  a 
very  great  hazard,  since  nothing  can  be  more  im- 
possible than  to  compose  one  that  may  receive 
the  approbation  of  every  reader. — CERVANTES. 


PREFACE 

I  HAVE  not  found  any  way  to  write  an  autobi- 
ography without  a  free  use  of  the  personal  pronoun 
"  I,"  so  the  reader  of  this  book  will  discover  that 
vertical  letter  liberally  sprinkled  over  nearly  every 
page.  I  knew  no  way  of  eliminating  it  or  I  would 
have  done  so.  After  the  work  progressed,  I  did  not 
mind  it  so  much,  and  towards  the  close  I  rather  liked 
it.  That  is  the  way  it  is  with  bad  habits — they  grow 
on  one,  and  finally  assume  control.  The  only  excuse 
I  can  offer  for  making  this  attempt  at  writing  a  book 
is  that  I  am  an  octogenarian  and  that  my  family  and 
some  of  my  friends  urged  me  to  it,  and  I  wished  to 
oblige  them.  When  first  appealed  to,  I  demurred, 
fearing  that  there  was  not  sufficient  reason  for 
undertaking  the  task,  but  I  had  finally  to  give  way 
and  the  result  is  before  the  reader.  If  I  have  had  a 
measure  of  success  in  the  performance,  much  of  the 
credit  belongs  to  my  family,  whose  sympathetic  aid 
and  cooperation  I  have  had  throughout.  My  wife 
and  three  daughters,  all  having  retentive  memories 
and  the  diary  and  scrap-book  habit  highly  developed, 
have  made  my  work  easy  when  otherwise  it  would 
have  been  difficult,  if  not  impossible. 

W.  A. 
June  13,  1920, 


x  •:•:•: 


"  The  great  show  goes  on.  New  acts  come  and  go.  Let 
us  play  our  part,  watch  the  other  performers,  and  refuse 
to  even  think  of  leaving  until  the  curtain  is  rung  down  on 
us.  Then,  for  us,  the  show  will  be  over.  Not  before." 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY i 

I.  BACKGROUND  OF  ENGLISH  QUAKERISM 5 

II.  HISTORY  OF  Two  LITTLE  BOYS  WHOSE  PARENTS 

DIED  AT  SEA  IN  1699 1 1 

III.  THE  ATKINSON  CHAIR 17 

IV.  MY  MOTHER'S  FAMILY 18 

V.  A  COURTSHIP  AND  WEDDING  OF  LONG  AGO 21 

VI.  CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 31 

VII.  BOYHOOD  ON  THE  UPPER  DUBLIN  FARM 48 

VIII.  SCHOOL  DAYS 63 

IX.  BUYING   A   WEEKLY    PAPER    AND    CIVIL    WAR 

MEMORIES 85 

X.  DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 109 

XI.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  A  POWDER  WAGON  EXPLOSION.  .  151 

XII.  FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 155 

XIII.  PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 198 

XIV.  PETER  TUMBLEDOWN 214 

XV.  STORY  OF  A  SUGAR  BOWL 222 

XVI.  POOR  RICHARD  ALMANAC  REVIVED 229 

XVII.  A  BATTLE  FOR  THE  BIRDS 242 

XVIII.  THE  FARM  JOURNAL  SPIRIT 250 

XIX.  STEPPING-STONES  TO  SUCCESS 257 

XX.  OUR  REMOVAL  TO  HISTORIC  GERMANTOWN 264 

XXI.  BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 269 

XXII.  NORTH  VIEW 286 

XXIII.  MAN'S  LOYAL  FRIEND — THE  DOG 290 

XXIV.  BEAUTIFYING  A  LANDSCAPE 301 

XXV.  MAKING  OVER  AN  OLD  TURNPIKE  ROAD 311 

XXVI.  A  SCHOOL  COMMENCEMENT  ADDRESS  WITH  THE 

MERIT  OF  BREVITY 319 

XXVII.  TRAVEL 322 

XXVIII.  GENESIS  OF  THE  WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  MOVEMENT.  . .  336 
XXIX.  THE  PENNSYLVANIA  MEN'S  LEAGUE  FOR  WOMAN 

SUFFRAGE 349 

XXX.  FORTIETH  ANNIVERSARY  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL.  .  356 
APPENDIX 364 


"  Humor,  warm  and  all-embracing  as  the  sunshine, 
bathes  its  objects  in  a  genial  and  abiding  light.  It 
springs  not  so  much  from  the  head  as  from  the  heart; 
its  essence  is  love;  it  issues  not  in  laughter  but  in 
quiet  smiles  which  lie  deeper;  it  is  a  humane  influ- 
ence, prompting  tolerant  views  of  life,  and  softening 
with  mirth  the  ragged  inequalities  of  existence." 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Facsimile  of  Wilmer  Atkinson Frontispiece 

Scotford,     England,   from  a  Pencil  Sketch  by  Sarah   H. 

Atkinson 12 

Friends'  Meeting  House,  Lancaster,  England 12 

The  Home   (Buckingham,   Pa.)  Where  My  Grandmother, 

Esther  Smith,  Was  Born 12 

The  Atkinson  Chair 16 

The  Quinby  Homestead,  Built  About  1743,  Am  well  Town- 
ship, Hunterdon  County,  N.  J 18 

My  Mother  on  Her  Ninetieth  Birthday 20 

Solebury  Meeting  House,  Bucks  Co.,  Pennsylvania,  Where 

My  Parents  Were  Married  in  1836 22 

Sampler  Made  by  My  Mother  at  the  Age  of  Fifteen 24 

Hannah  Quinby,  in  Her  Young  Womanhood 30 

Spinning  Wheel 32 

At  the  Blacksmith's 36 

The  Oak  Slab 37 

My  Father  and  Mother  After  Coming  to  Upper  Dublin. ...  58 

Howard  M.  Jenkins  and  I  in  Debate 64 

Interior  of  Upper  Dublin  Meeting  House.Where  I  Attended 

as  a  Boy 66 

The  Simpson  Homestead,  Showing  the  Old-fashioned  Bake 

Oven  at  the  Left 76 

Children  of  Thomas  and  Hannah  Atkinson 82 

Myself  at  About  Fifteen  Years  of  Age 84 

My  Wife— to  be 84 

Civil  War  Relics 102 

Four  Generations 1 16 

Our  Wedding  Gifts 134 

Our  First  Home  at  Greenbank,  Delaware 138 

Maple  Hill 140 

One  of  My  Favorite  Games — Quaker  City  Roque  Courts  in 

Fairmount  Park 144 

Our  Three  Jewels — Also  Myself  at  About  Eight  Years  of  Age  156 

W.  A. — First  Subscriber — First  Advertiser — First  Office 162 

The  Farm  Journal  Mastiff 174 

The  Bubble  Boy  of  the  Farm  Journal 187 

Howard  M.  Jenkins 188 

Charles  Francis  Jenkins  (Now  President)  190 

Arthur  H.  Jenkins — A.  Sidney  Jenkins 192 

xvii 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Muscle  Needed  on  that  "  Experimental  Farm  "......  196 

Peter  Tumbledown 's  Farm — A  Farm  Journal  Farm .  - 214 

For  Ready  Reference 228 

A  Letter  of  Appreciation 242 

A  Boat-load  of  Bird  Boxes  for  Chincoteague  Island,  Va 246 

Entrance  to  Farm  Journal  Building,  West  Washington 

Square 256 

My  Wife 260 

The  Subscription  Department  of  the  Farm  Journal 262 

The  Front  Door  of  Our  City  Home 266 

Our  Three  Daughters 268 

North  View — Our  Summer  Residence  at  Three  Tuns 270 

The  "Old  Oak"  Down  the  Lane 272 

A  Bit  of  the  North  View  Lawn 284 

Entering  the  Driveway  at  North  View 286 

Two  More  Pictures  of  My  Wife 288 

Jeanie  Deans 290 

North  View  After  Sixteen  Years 300 

The  Orchard  Walk 304 

The  Three  Tuns  Library  and  Post  Office 306 

The  Toll-gate  House  on  the  Butler  Drive 316 

Stonehenge,  England,  and  Family  Group 325 

Temple  of  Karnak,  Luxor,  Egypt 326 

The  Prison  of  Socrates  at  Athens 328 

In  the  Doorway  of  a  Garden  at  St.  Aubin,  on  the  Island  of 

Jersey 330 

S.  S.  Spokane— The  Taku  Glacier 332 

At  Jordans,  England,  Where  William  Penn  Lies  Buried 334 

George  Fox 338 

Susan  B.  Anthony — Lucretia  Mott 340 

Lucretia  Mott  and  Susan  B.  Anthony  in  Later  Life 342 

First  Suffrage  Parade,  New  York,  May  4,  1912 346 

Map  of  Pennsylvania,  Showing  the  Woman  Suffrage  Vote 

on  November  2,  1915 352 

Farm  Journal  Building,  West  Washington  Square  356 


xviii 


Wilmer  Atkinson 

An  Autobiography 

IT  was  in  May,  1699,  that  John  Atkinson,  a  paternal 
ancestor  in  direct  line,  em-barked  on  the  ship  Britannia 
from  Liverpool,  England,  bound  for  Philadelphia. 
Accompanying  him  were  his  wife,  Susannah,  and 
their  three  children,  William,  Margaret  and  John, 
and  three  of  his  wife's  sisters,  his  brother  Chris- 
topher, and  his  wife  Margaret  and  their  children. 

The  voyage  was  unpropitious,  for  there  was 
much  sickness  on  board  the  ship.  John  and  his  wife, 
Susannah,  and  Christopher  succumbed  to  the  malady 
which  prevailed,  supposed  to  have  been  smallpox, 
and  were  buried  at  sea.  John  was  the  owner  of  an 
oak  chair  which  comprised  part  of  his  effects  when 
he  set  out  on  his  great  adventure.  It  became  a 
family  heirloom,  and  after  a  lapse  of  two  hundred 
and  twenty  years  of  varying  ownership  is  now  in 
possession  of  the  author.  An  engraving  and  descrip- 
tion will  be  found  on  a  later  page. 

Margaret,  the  widow,  and  the  children  of  Chris- 
topher, Susannah's  sisters  and  John's  children  ar- 
rived at  Philadelphia.  There  they  stayed  a  few 
weeks  before  going  to  Bucks  county,  where  they 
settled,  and  where  most  of  their  descendants  have 
since  lived. 

They  were  Friends  bearing  certificates  from  the 
Lancaster  (England)  Friends'  Meeting  to  Friends 
in  America.  The  orphan  children  of  John  and  Susan- 
nah thus,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Society 
i  i 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

of  Friends,  came  under  the  care  of  the  Meeting; 
their  health  was  guarded,  their  education  provided, 
and  their  interests  carefully  watched  over  by  the 
Meeting  until  they  arrived  at  maturity. 

John  and  Christopher  bore  with  them,  when  they 
left  England,  not  only  a  certificate  to  Friends  in 
America,  but  also  patents  from  William  Penn  for 
fifteen  hundred  acres  of  land,  of  which  Christopher's 
share  was  one  thousand  and  John's  share  five 
hundred  acres. 

Leaving  the  history  of  the  immigrants  at  this  point 
to  return  to  the  subject  later,  I  will  tell  something 
of  the  Society  of  Friends,  called  Quakers,  as  it 
existed  in  England  from  its  founding  until  about  the 
time  the  Atkinson  families  sought  new  homes  in 
Penn's  colony. 

Those  were  indeed  tumultuous  times  in  England 
between  1647  and  1691,  a  period  in  which  George  Fox 
and  his  followers  were  busy  spreading  the  gospel  of 
Quakerism.  The  conflict  was  on  between  king  and 
people.  Charles  I  was  executed  in  1649,  an(i  Crom- 
well took  power  as  Protector  in  1653,  and  ruled  as  such 
for  five  years.  Charles  II  reigned  from  1661  to  1685, 
when  he  was  succeeded  by  James  II,  who  held  power 
three  years,  to  be  followed  by  William  and  Mary 
from  1682  to  1702. 

It  was  during  the  reign  of  William  and  Mary 
that  the  two  Atkinson  brothers,  Christopher  and 
John,  with  their  families,  shipped  to  America,  drawn 
hither  by  the  bright  prospect  of  finding  new  homes 
in  Pennsylvania. 

William  Penn  embraced  the  doctrines  of  the 
Quakers,  and  threw  in  his  lot  with  them  in  1666, 
preaching,  and  writing  in  defense  of  the  faith.  This 
soon  brought  him  to  the  Tower,  where  he  remained  a 
prisoner  for  eight  months  and  sixteen  days.  He  vio- 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

lated  the  Conventicle  law  which  was  enacted  in  1664. 
This  law  punished  with  fine  and  imprisonment,  and 
transportation  for  the  third  offense,  prisoners  of  six- 
teen years  of  age  or  over  who  should  meet  in  a 
greater  number  than  five  at  any  religious  meeting, 
except  that  of  the  common  prayer;  those  who  re- 
turned, or  escaped  from  banishment,  were  punished 
by  death.  This  did  not  prevent  the  Quakers  from 
meeting  just  the  same  as  before. 

While  in  the  Tower,  Penn  was  informed  by  the 
Bishop  of  London  that  he  would  be  imprisoned  for 
life  unless  he  would  repent ;  but  Penn  replied,  "  Then 
my  prison  shall  be  my  grave !  "  He  did  not  repent, 
and  at  the  end  of  his  term  he  was  released. 

It  will  be  interesting  at  this  point  of  my  narra- 
tive to  tell  something  of  George  Fox  and  his  preach- 
ing, which  began  in  his  early  manhood  and  continued 
until  his  death  in  1691.  The  existence  of  the  Society 
of  Friends  has  for  its  origin  the  preaching  and  organ- 
izing ability  of  this  extraordinary  man.  We  learn 
from  his  journal,  faithfully  kept  during  his  entire 
career,  the  whole  story  of  his  busy  life,  which  is  told 
in  the  most  minute  and  thrilling  way. 

The  name  "  Quaker,"  applied  to  the  new  sect, 
originated  in  a  remark  made  by  Fox  when  haled 
before  a  magistrate  whom  he  bade  to  "  tremble  at 
the  word  of  the  Lord."  Fox  was  never  abashed  in 
the  presence  of  the  magistrates.  He  spoke  to  judges 
and  justices,  charging  them  to  give  righteous  judg- 
ment, and  to  the  keepers  of  public-houses,  urging 
them  not  to  let  people  have  more  drink  than  would 
do  them  good.  He  petitioned  Parliament  against 
allowing  more  public-houses  than  were  needed  for 
travellers,  so  as  not  to  multiply  the  number  of  drink- 
ing houses.  He  raised  his  testimony  against  wakes, 
feasts,  May-games,  sports,  plays,  and  shows.  He 

3 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

went  to  fairs  and  markets,  lifting  his  voice  against 
the  prevailing  evils  of  the  times.  He  preached  in 
cathedrals,  on  hay  stacks,  on  cliffs  of  rock,  from  hill 
tops,  under  apple  trees  and  elm  trees,  in  barns  and 
in  city  squares,  while  he  sent  epistles  from  every 
place  in  which  he  was  shut  up.  Nothing  but  the 
grave  itself  could  keep  him  quiet. 

Let  us  follow  George  Fox  in  some  of  the  details 
he  gives  in  this  journal,  that  the  reader  may  then 
learn  what  manner  of  man  he  was,  the  character  of 
his  mission,  and  what  dire  persecution  he  under- 
went. It  is  indeed  a  wonderful  story. 


CHAPTER  I 
BACKGROUND   OF  ENGLISH   QUAKERISM 

GEORGE  Fox 

"  I  write  from  knowledge  and  not  from  report,  and  my 
witness  is  true,  having  been  with  George  Fox  for  weeks  and 
months  together  on  divers  occasions,  and  those  of  the  near- 
est and  most  exercising  nature,  and  that  by  night  and  by 
day,  by  sea  and  by  land,  in  this  and  in  foreign  countries: 
I  can  say  I  never  saw  him  out  of  his  place,  or  not  a  match 
for  every  service  and  occasion." — WILLIAM  PENN. 

WRITES  George  Fox  in  his  journal: 

At  Derby  I  was  imprisoned  on  a  definite  charge 
for  six  months,  and  then  without  any  further  trial,  ap- 
parently because  I  would  not  join  Cromwell's  army, 
was  held  in  close  confinement  for  nearly  six  months 
more.  I  was  placed  in  a  lousy,  dirty  place,  without 
any  bed,  amongst  thirty  fellows. 

At  Tick  Hill  I  went  up  to  them  and  began  to 
speak,  but  they  immediately  fell  upon  me ;  the  clerk 
up  with  his  Bible  as  I  was  speaking  and  struck  me 
on  the  face  with  it,  so  that  my  face  gushed  out  with 
blood.  When  they  had  got  me  out,  they  beat  me 
exceedingly,  threw  me  down  and  turned  me  over  a 
hedge.  They  afterwards  dragged  me  through  a  house 
into  the  street,  stoning  and  beating  me  as  they 
dragged  me  along,  so  that  I  was  all  over  besmeared 
with  blood  and  dirt.  They  got  my  hat  away  from 
me,  which  I  never  had  again. 

One  whose  name  was  Cock  met  me  in  the  street 
and  would  have  given  me  a  roll  of  tobacco,  for 
people  were  then  much  given  to  smoking.  I  accepted 
his  love  but  did  not  receive  the  tobacco. 

Later  a  Captain  Drewey  brought  me  before  Oliver 
Cromwell  at  Whitehall.  It  was  in  the  morning  be- 

5 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

fore  he  was  dressed.  When  I  came  in  I  was  moved 
to  say  "  Peace  be  to  this  house,"  and  I  exhorted  him 
to  keep  in  the  fear  of  God  that  he  might  receive  wis- 
dom from  Him,  that  by  it  he  might  be  directed  and 
order  all  things  in  his  hand  to  God's  glory. 

Many  more  words  I  had  with  him,  but  people 
coming  in,  I  drew  a  little  back.  As  I  was  turning  he 
caught  me  by  the  hand  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes 
said,  "  Come  again  to  my  house ;  for  if  thou  and  I 
were  but  here  all  the  day  together  we  should  be  near 
one  to  the  other,  adding  that  he  wished  me  no  more 
ill  than  he  did  to  his  own  soul." 

On  one  occasion  one  Otway  with  some  rude  fel- 
lows rode  round  about  the  Meeting  with  his  sword 
or  rapier  and  would  fain  have  got  in  through  the 
Friends  to  me ;  but  the  Meeting  being  great  the 
Friends  stood  close  so  that  he  could  not  easily  get 
at  me. 

I  arranged  for  a  Meeting  at  Glasgow,  Scotland, 
but  seeing  none  of  the  townspeople  come  to  the 
Meeting  I  declared  truth  through  the  town.  This 
was  my  custom.  A  warrant  was  issued  against  me, 
and  I  said,  "  Why  did  ye  tell  me  of  other  warrants 
against  me  ?  If  there  were  a  cartload  of  them  I  would 
not  heed  them,  for  the  Lord's  power  is  over  them  all." 

I  was  moved  to  write  to  Oliver  Cromwell  and 
lay  before  him  the  sufferings  of  Friends  both  in  this 
nation  and  in  Ireland.  There  was  also  a  talk  about 
this  time  about  making  Cromwell  king;  whereupon 
I  was  moved  to  go  to  him  and  warn  him  against 
accepting  it ;  and  of  divers  dangers,  which,  if  he  did 
not  avoid  them,  would,  I  told  him,  bring  shame  and 
ruin  upon  himself  and  his  posterity.  He  seemed  to 
take  well  what  I  said  to  him  and  thanked  me. 

They  threw  rotten  eggs  and  wild-fire  into  our 
Meetings  and  brought  in  drums  beating  and  kettles 

6 


BACKGROUND   OF   ENGLISH   QUAKERISM 

to  make  noises  with,  that  the  truth  might  not 
be  heard. 

The  next  week  we  had  an  account  of  several  thou- 
sand more  that  were  cast  into  prison.  The  jails  were 
still  full,  many  thousands  of  Friends  being  in  prison. 
It  is  estimated  that  at  this  time  there  were  not  less 
than  4500  Friends  in  the  prisons  of  England  and  Wales. 
This  letter  to  the  King  is  strikingly  direct  and 
straightforward :  "  We  desire  all  that  are  in  prison 
may  be  set  at  liberty,  and  that  for  the  time  to  come 
they  may  not  be  imprisoned  for  conscience  and  for 
the  Truth's  sake." 

We  declared  the  Truth  as  we  went  along  the 
streets,  till  we  came  to  the  jail,  the  streets  being  full 
of  people.  They  put  their  hands  into  my  pockets  to 
search  them,  and  plucked  out  my  comb-case,  and 
afterwards  commanded  one  of  their  officers  to  search 
further  for  letters.  I  told  him  I  was  no  letter-carrier. 

A  judge  said  to  me,  "  Sirrah,  will  you  swear?" 
I  told  him  I  was  none  of  his  Sirrahs ;  I  was  a  Chris- 
tian; and  for  him,  an  old  man  and  a  judge,  to  sit 
there  and  give  nicknames  to  prisoners  did  not  be- 
come either  his  gray  hairs  or  his  office.  "  Well," 
said  he,  "  I  am  a  Christian,  too."  "  Then  do  Chris- 
tian works,"  said  I. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Lord  Hastings  which  I  carried 
to  Lord  Beaumont,  who  had  sent  us  to  prison.  When 
he  had  broken  it  open  and  read  it  he  seemed  much 
troubled;  yet  threatened  us  that  if  we  had  any  more 
meetings  at  Swanington  he  would  break  them  up  and 
send  us  to  prison  again,  but  notwithstanding  his 
threat  we  went  to  Swanington  and  had  a  Meeting 
with  Friends  there  and  he  never  came  nor  sent  to 
break  it  up. 

I  having  refused  others  to  plead  for  me,  the  judge 
asked  me  what  I  had  to  say  why  he  should  not  pass 

7 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

sentence  upon  me.  I  told  him  I  was  no  lawyer;  but 
I  had  much  to  say  if  he  would  but  have  patience  to 
hear.  At  that  he  laughed  and  others  laughed  also. 

When  they  had  prepared  for  my  removal  to  Scar- 
borough Castle,  the  under  sheriff  and  the  head  sheriff 
with  some  bailiffs  fetched  me  out,  when  I  was  so 
weak  with  lying  in  the  cold,  wet  and  smoky  prison 
that  I  could  hardly  go  or  stand.  They  led  me  into 
the  jailer's  house,  where  William  Kirby  and  several 
others  were,  and  they  called  for  wine  to  give 
me.  I  told  them  I  would  have  none  of  their  wine ; 
then  they  cried,  "  Bring  out  the  horses."  Then  they 
lifted  me  upon  one  of  the  sheriff's  horses.  When  I 
was  on  horseback  in  the  street,  the  townspeople 
being  gathered  to  gaze  upon  me,  they  hurried  me 
away  fourteen  miles,  though  I  was  so  weak  that  I 
was  hardly  able  to  sit  on  horseback,  and  my  clothes 
smelled  so  of  smoke  they  were  loathsome  to  myself. 
The  wicked  jailer,  a  young  fellow,  would  come  be- 
hind and  give  the  horse  a  lash  with  his  whip  and 
make  him  skip  and  leap,  so  that  I,  being  weak,  had 
much  ado  to  sit  on  him ;  then  he  would  come  and  look 
me  in  the  face  and  say,  "  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Fox?  " 

When  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  Scarborough 
Castle  had  occasion  to  speak  of  me  after  my  release 
they  would  say,  "  He  is  as  stiff  as  a  tree  and  as 
pure  as  a  bell." 

I  had  suffered  imprisonment  in  Worcester  jail  a 
year  and  almost  two  months  for  nothing.  I  was 
fairly  set  at  liberty  upon  a  trial  of  the  errors  of  my 
indictment,  without  receiving  any  pardon,  or  com- 
ing under  any  obligation  or  engagement  at  all,  for  I 
would  rather  have  lived  in  prison  all  my  days  than 
to  have  come  out  any  way  dishonorable  to  Truth. 

George  Fox  was,  at  the  age  of  fifty-one,  prema- 
turely broken  by  the  sufferings  and  exposures  which 

8 


BACKGROUND   OF  ENGLISH   QUAKERISM 

only  such  an  iron  constitution  as  he  possessed  could 
have  endured  for  thirty  years,  yet  he  lived  fourteen 
years  longer. 

By  the  execution  of  a  warrant  about  fifteen  hundred 
Quakers  were  set  free.  In  the  list  of  those  set  free  was 
John  Bunyan,  author  of  "  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

George  Fox  was  civil  beyond  all  forms  of  breed- 
ing in  his  behavior,  very  temperate,  eating  little  and 
sleeping  less,  though  a  bulky  person.  He  was  born 
in  the  month  called  July,  1624,  in  Leicestershire.  His 
father's  name  was  Christopher,  and  he  was  by  pro- 
fession a  weaver,  an  honest  man.  The  neighbors 
called  him  "  Righteous  Christopher." 

While  he  was  travelling  and  preaching  Fox  used 
in  his  dealings  the  word  "  verily,"  and  it  was  a 
common  saying  among  those  who  knew  him,  "  If 
George  says  '  verily,'  there  is  no  altering  him." 

He  came  upon  a  sort  of  people  who  held  that 
women  have  no  souls,  not  more  than  a  goose,  and 
he  reproved  them,  telling  them  that  was  not  right; 
for  Mary  said,  "  My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord 
and  my  spirit  hath  rejoiced  in  God,  my  Saviour."  It 
was  through  his  influence  that  women  became  par- 
ticipants in  the  councils  of  Friends,  taking  part  in 
the  business  affairs  of  the  Society,  and  preaching  in 
meetings  for  worship  the  same  as  men,  usually  a 
little  better.  They  continue  to  do  so. 

He  raised  up  his  voice  against  false  balances  and 
deceitful  merchandise,  urging  men  to  deal  justly,  to 
speak  the  truth,  to  let  their  yea  be  yea  and  their  nay, 
nay ;  and,  finally,  to  do  to  others  as  they  would  that 
others  should  do  to  them. 

No  census  of  his  followers  was  taken  in  Fox's 
lifetime,  but  soon  after  the  Restoration  (after  Crom- 
well), a  careful  enumeration  of  Quakers  in  prison 
throughout  all  England  was  made,  and  it  was  found 

9 


,JVILMER>TKINSON 

that  their^number  exceeded  four  thousand,  and 
Robert  Barclay  states  that  in  1675  the  number  of 
Quakers  in  London  amounted  to  ten  thousand,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  century  they  were  at  least 
sixty  thousand. 

In  January,  1691,  the  last  entry  in  the  Journal 
was  made.  He  fell  asleep  in  peace  on  the  evening  of 
January  thirteenth,  1691.  The  body  was  laid  near  the 
Bunhill  Fields,  London.  When  in  that  city  in  1903  with 
my  family  I  paid  a  visit  to  Bunhill  Fields  and  saw  the 
modest  stone  that  marks  his  grave.  It  is  about 
thirty  inches  high,  eighteen  inches  wide,  four  inches 
thick,  and  is  considerably  out  of  perpendicular. 

I  need  make  no  apology  for  giving  so  much  space 
to  extracts  from  the  Journal  of  George  Fox,  be- 
cause, first,  I  believe  that  whoever  reads  them  will 
be  more  interested  than  they  would  be  in  anything 
I  can  say  about  myself ;  and  secondly,  because  they 
afford  a  background  to  the  coming  of  the  Atkinson 
family  to  America,  showing  how  it  was  that  they  came 
to  give  up  their  old  homes  for  new  ones  far  away. 

John,  the  emigrant  (the  one  who  died  at  sea), 
was  not  of  an  age  to  suffer  the  extreme  penalties 
meted  out  to  Fox  and  his  followers  at  a  little  earlier 
period,  for  daring  to  oppose  the  influences  of 
ecclesiastics  and  for  worshipping  God  freely  in  their 
own  meeting  house ;  but  his  father,  William,  was, 
having  served  with  his  brother  Christopher  a  term 
in  Lancaster  jail  for  antagonizing  the  prejudices  of 
the  community  in  which  they  lived,  particularly  for 
attending  Quaker  meetings. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  those  were  times 
when  England  underwent  a  spirit  of  unrest,  with  a 
civil  war  raging  in  almost  every  neighboi  hood,  and 
the  rabble  ever  ready  to  make  it  unpleasant  for  any- 
one outside  the  pale. 

10 


CHAPTER  II 

HISTORY  OF  TWO  LITTLE  BOYS  WHOSE 
PARENTS  DIED  AT  SEA  IN  1699 

THE  English  home  of  our  branch  of  the  Atkin- 
son family  was  at  Scotford,  a  small  village  two  miles 
from  the  city  of  Lancaster.  William,  father  of 
Christopher  and  John  (the  emigrants  who  sailed  for 
America  on  the  ship  Britannia),  as  before  stated,  be- 
came a  follower  of  George  Fox,  as  early  as  1660.  In 
that  year  he  and  his  brother  Christopher  attended  a 
Friends'  meeting,  and  for  this  offense  were  sent  to 
the  Lancaster  jail.  The  meeting  house  shown  in 
the  engraving  is  probably  the  house  where  they 
attended  meeting,  though  modernized  and  much 
changed  in  appearance.  How  long  they  were  im- 
prisoned we  do  not  know.  Fifteen  years  later, 
William  Atkinson,  with  Nathan  Kennedy,  attended 
a  meeting  at  Margaret  Fell's  at  Swarthmore.  For 
this  offense  they  had  goods  taken  from  them  amount- 
ing to  three  pounds,  five  shillings  and  six  pence. 
Many  of  the  facts  that  will  appear  in  this  book  con- 
cerning the  elder  Atkinsons  of  Scotford,  and  concern- 
ing John,  the  emigrant,  and  his  descendants  in  this 
country,  are  derived  from  Charles  F.  Jenkins's  mem- 
oranda recorded  in  a  book,  comprising  a  record  of 
the  family,  by  Oliver  Hough.  I  freely  acknowledge 
my  indebtedness  to  both  Charles  and  Oliver  for  the 
privilege  of  using  the  information  they  so  assidu- 
ously collected.  The  sketch  of  the  village  as  it  is 
now,  by  Sarah  H.  Atkinson  (now  Mrs.  Engle),  a 
descendant  of  William,  appears  in  the  Hough  book 
and  is  reproduced  here. 

ii 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

William  was  a  yeoman  or  husbandman,  for  he 
owned  land.  At  his  death,  in  1679,  his  personal  estate 
was  valued  at  sixty-eight  pounds,  together  with  a 
drove  of  thirty-two  sheep.  The  remainder  of  the 
estate  was  left  to  his  older  son  William,  who  soon 
died,  who  in  his  will,  among  other  bequests,  left  ten 
pounds  to  "  Such  Poor  People  as  are  in  scorne  Called 
Quakers."  The  property  thus  fell  to  Christopher 


SCOTPORD.  ENGLAND.  FROM  A  PENCIL  SKETCH  BY  SARAH 
H.  ATKINSON 

and  John,  the  emigrants,  the  latter  receiving  the 
family  homestead. 

The  boy  John  was  but  four  years  old  when  his 
father  died  at  sea,  but  he  himself  lived  to  become  the 
ancestor  of  most  of  the  Bucks  county  Atkinsons,  of 
whom  I  am  one. 

The  trust  assumed  by  the  Middletown  Meeting 
for  the  care  of  orphans,  as  requested  by  Lancaster 
(England)  Monthly  Meeting,  was  faithfully  carried 
out.  The  children  were  brought  up  on  farms  until 
they  were  of  age,  after  which  they  were  able,  as 
most  of  his  descendants  have  been  able,  to  take  care 
of  themselves.  The  five  hundred  acres  of  land  for 
which  their  father  had  a  patent  from  William  Penn, 

12 


FRIENDS'  MEETING  HOUSE,  LANCASTER,  ENGLAND 


THE  HOME  (BUCKINGHAM,  PA.,)  WHERE  MY  GRANDMOTHER, 
ESTHER  SMITH,  WAS  BORN 


HISTORY  OF  TWO  LITTLE  BOYS 

were  sold,  and  the  money  was  divided  among 
the  children. 

Both  boys  married  young  and  settled  on  farms, 
William,  first  in  Warminster,  Bucks  county,  and 
then  in  Upper  Dublin,  Montgomery  county.  William 
had  no  sons,  and  the  Atkinson  name  dropped  out ;  but 
there  were  several  daughters  who  have  many  de- 
scendants. Hereafter,  in  this  book,  because  William 
was  not  in  direct  line,  interest  will  centre  in  John 
and  his  direct  descendants. 

John  married  Mary  Smith  and  lived  until  1752. 
They  had  eight  children,  two  of  whom  died  young. 
The  third  child  was  Thomas,  who  was  born  in  1722, 
married  in  1744,  and  died  in  1760.  His  wife  was 
Mary  Wildman,  and  they  had  two  children,  Thomas 
and  Sarah.  The  son  Thomas  married  Sarah  Smith ; 
they  had  seven  children,  the  oldest  of  whom  was 
Jonathan,  my  grandfather,  whom  I  well  remember. 
Jonathan  was  born  in  1782.  He  married  Esther  Smith, 
who  was  born  in  the  house  shown  on  a  near  page. 
He  had  one  sister,  Sarah,  and  three  brothers,  Tim- 
othy, Mahlon  and  Joseph.  I  knew  all  but  Mahlon, 
who  moved  to  Ohio  when  a  young  man,  married,  and 
became  the  father  of  numerous  children.  The  Smiths 
mentioned  were  not  all  of  the  same  family. 

Jonathan  and  Esther  had  eight  children,  Phebe, 
Benjamin,  Thomas,  Josiah,  Stephen,  Jonathan, 
Sarah,  and  Edward;  the  third  child,  Thomas,  was 
my  father. 

I  have  a  very  vivid  recollection  of  grandfather 
Jonathan,  and  my  aunts,  Phebe  and  Sarah,  and 
uncle  Edward,  for  I  used  to  spend  several  weeks 
every  year  with  them  while  grandfather  was  living. 
Their  home  in  Wrightstown  was  five  miles  away 
from  ours  in  Warwick.  I  loved  to  be  there,  for  my 
aunts  were  so  kind  to  me ;  yet,  as  I  recall,  after  being 

13 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

there  a  while,  I  would  become  homesick  and  want  to 
go  back  to  Warwick;  but  equally  desirous  was  I, 
after  a  time,  of  revisiting  at  grandfather's. 

To  me  grandfather  did  not  seem  very  cordial  but, 
in  fact,  was  a  little  austere,  I  thought,  the  inference 
being  that  he  was  perhaps  less  interested  in  the 
problems  of  little  boys  than  in  those  of  agriculture. 
The  description  of  him,  by  Charles,  in  Hough's 
book  follows : 

He  was  a  tall  man,  with  dark  hair,  described  in 
later  years  as  being  a  very  fine-looking  old  man. 
He  attended  meeting  at  Wrightstown  regularly  and 
usually  sat  facing  the  gallery,  a  bench  or  two  back 
from  the  separating  aisle.  He  was  an  omnivorous 
reader.  He  was  fond  of  reading  aloud  with  his  family 
gathered  around  him.  In  his  later  years  he  was 
equally  pleased  to  have  his  children  read  to  him. 
Often  in  the  night  when  he  could  not  sleep  he  would 
get  up,  and  the  picture  of  him  sitting  back  in  his  big 
chair,  his  book  in  one  hand  and  a  candle  in  the  other, 
was  one  long  remembered  by  his  children.  His 
daughter  Sarah  says  that  he  sometimes  set  his  paper 
on  fire.  During  his  early  life  he  had  been  a  smoker, 
but  after  he  was  fifty  he  abandoned  the  habit.  In 
politics  he  was  a  Whig. 

In  his  later  days  he  had  a  sorrel  saddle  mare 
named  "  Kicker,"  on  which  he  used  to  ride  over  the 
farm  and  superintend  the  work.  I  well  remember 
that  mare ;  I  also  recall  that  she  kicked ;  but  I  had 
forgotten  that  "  Kicker  "  was  her  name.  It  was  a 
common  custom  at  that  time  to  ride  horseback,  espe- 
cially if  there  was  a  horse  in  the  stable  that  was  use- 
less in  harness  because  of  vicious  propensities. 

My  grandmother  Esther,  having  died  in  1832,  the 
household  duties,  until  1848,  devolved  on  Phebe,  the 
older  daughter.  I  quote  from  Hough's  book : 

14 


HISTORY  OF  TWO  LITTLE  BOYS 

The  responsibilities  thus  thrown  upon  her  were 
cheerfully  assumed  and  her  whole  life  was  one  of 
devotion  and  loving  helpfulness  to  her  brothers  and 
sisters,  then  in  turn,  her  nieces  and  nephews,  and 
even  on  to  the  next  generation.  She  was  usually 
called  "  Aunt  Sibby,"  not  only  by  her  relations,  but 
by  others  as  well.  She  had  a  great  fondness  for  pre- 
serving old  things,  and  odds  and  ends  were  carefully 
put  away  in  her  bureau  drawers  with  the  idea  that 
they  would  be  of  use  at  some  later  time.  She  was 
a  repository  of  family  incident  and  tradition  and  fond 
of  talking  of  the  old  times  and  ways.  Simple  in  her 
tastes  and  desires  she  was  able  out  of  a  very  mod- 
erate income  to  do  many  little  deeds  of  kindness  for 
those  about  her. 

One  characteristic  of  aunt  Phebe  was  that  she 
was  a  free  talker,  often  about  seemingly  inconse- 
quential things  that  her  hearers  were  not  interested 
in,  so  they  let  her  talk  on  without  interruption,  half 
the  time  not  hearing  what  she  was  saying.  She 
never  felt  offended  at  this ;  indeed,  never  appeared  to 
notice  it.  She  was  another  name  for  kindness.  I 
may  say  the  same  of  aunt  Sallie.  The  latter 
died  recently  above  the  age  of  ninety.  Neither  of 
these  good  aunties  ever  scolded  me,  even  if  I  forgot 
to  fill  the  wood-box  before  sundown. 

Later,  I  will  give  an  account  of  my  boy  life  at 
grandfather's,  for  the  events  that  happened  there  are 
yet  clearly  impressed  upon  my  memory;  and  they 
are  happy  memories. 

For  the  sake  of  clarity,  I  will  state  that  the  direct 
line  of  my  paternal  ancestors,  as  far  back  as  my 
records  go,  is  as  follows :  William,  the  Quaker,  who 
was  imprisoned  in  Lancaster  jail  for  attending 
Friends'  Meeting ;  John  the  emigrant,  who  died  at  sea ; 
his  four-year-old  son  John,  who  survived  the  voyage ; 

IS 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

his  son  Thomas  (i);  his  son  Thomas  (2);  his  son 
Jonathan;  and  his  son  Thomas,  my  father. 

This  not  being  a  genealogy  of  the  Atkinson  family,  I 
will  not  trace  the  lateral  branches  any  further,  except 
to  say  that  the  descendants  of  John  intermarried 
with  many  Bucks  county  families,  such  as  East- 
burn,  Trego,  Heston,  Hillborn,  Stockdale,  Williams, 
Smith,  Kinsey,  Allen,  Twining,  Walmsley,  Wild- 
man,  Croasdale,  Tomlinson,  and  Walton.  Also  of 
Montgomery  county,  the  Jenkins,  Hughs,  Cleaver, 
Warner,  Hollingsworth,  Reynolds,  Paul,  Rich,  and 
many  others.  The  records  of  all  those  marriages,  as 
well  as  all  births,  deaths,  and  removals,  are  to  be 
found  in  the  various  monthly  meetings  of  Friends  to 
which  they  respectively  belonged. 


16 


THE  ATKINSON  CHAIR 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  ATKINSON  CHAIR 

AN  interesting  heirloom  of  the  family  has  long 
been  known  as  the  Atkinson  chair,  a  substantial 
piece  of  oak  furniture  of  the  Cromwell  period,  which 
was  brought  over  in  the  Britannia.  It  belonged  to 
John  and  was  probably  made  by  him.  Soon  after 
the  immigrants  arrived  in  Philadelphia  the  chair,  with 
other  belongings  of  the  stricken  families,  was  taken 
with  the  children  to  Bucks  county,  in  the  care  of 
Margaret,  Christopher's  widow.  When  William,  the 
oldest  son  of  John,  became  of  age,  the  chair  went 
into  his  possession  and  remained  with  him  until  he 
died  in  1751 ;  then  it  passed  to  Susannah  Atkinson 
Hughs,  his  daughter,  then  again  to  her  son  Atkinson 
Hughs  (i),  then  to  Atkinson  Hughs  (2),  then  to 
Elizabeth  Hughs  Warner,  then  to  her  son  Isaac 
Warner,  who  willed  it  to  his  son  Parry  Warner,  so 
that  it  belonged,  from  John's  death  at  sea  in  1699,  to 
his  son  William  and  William's  descendants  up  to  1916, 
a  period  of  two  hundred  and  seventeen  years.  In  all 
this  time  it  was  well  cared  for  and  highly  prized, 
though  for  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  years  it  was 
out  of  the  Atkinson  family  name.  It  came  back  to 
the  family  name  in  1916,  and  now  reposes  in  a  position 
of  honor  in  the  dining-room  of  the  author, 
sixth  in  line  from  John,  the  original  owner  and 
maker.  It  is  well  preserved  and  carries  a  bronze 
plate  telling  of  its  vicissitudes  since  1699. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MY  MOTHER'S  FAMILY 

MY  mother  was  Hannah  Quinby ;  she  was  born  at 
what  is  now  known  as  Raven  Rock,  a  station  on  the  Bel- 
videre-Delaware  Railroad,  in  Am  well  township,  Hunt- 
erdon  county,  New  Jersey,  opposite  Lumberville  on 
the  Delaware  river. 

Mother  could  trace  her  descent  from  William 
Quinby,  the  immigrant,  who  came  from  County  Surrey, 
England,  about  1638.  He  was  then  about  thirty-eight 
years  old.  He  landed  near  Salem,  Massachusetts, 
and  soon  went  on  foot  or  horseback  to  Stratford, 
Connecticut.  In  1657  he  sold  out  there  and  moved 
to  West  Chester  county,  New  York. 

William's  son  John  was  born  in  England  about 
1633,  so  he  was  only  about  five  years  old  when  he 
came  to  America  with  his  father,  and  twenty-four 
when  they  arrived  in  West  Chester.  Here  both 
William  and  John  became  members  of  the  first  Con- 
gregational Church  of  West  Chester.  John  had  a 
son  Josiah,  who  was  the  father  of  Isaiah,  mother's 
grandfather.  Isaiah  was  born  in  1716  and  moved  to 
Amwell,  New  Jersey,  at  the  age  of  twenty-six.  He 
soon  met  Rachel  Warford,  a  daughter  of  a  neighbor- 
ing landowner,  and  married  her.  He  built  a  one- 
story  stone  house,  shown  in  the  accompanying  en- 
graving, in  which  he  lived  for  sixty-five  years.  He 
was  a  great  worker  and  an  early  riser.  He  and  his 
wife  Rachel  had  thirteen  children,  all  born  and  reared 
in  that  small  house :  Samuel,  Rachel,  Sarah,  Aaron, 
Moses,  Tabitha,  Martha,  James,  Job,  Mary,  Eliza- 
beth, Anne  and  Phebe.  Anne  lived  to  be  eighty- 

18 


MY  MOTHER'S  FAMILY 

two,  Rachel  to  be  eighty-nine.  Sarah  married  Seneca 
Lukens.  In  1839  their  son,  Isaiah,  made  the  clock  for 
the  tower  of  Independence  Hall  and  was  paid  $5000 
for  it.  Sarah  died  at  eighty-eight.  She  left  five  chil- 
dren, thirty-seven  grandchildren,  and  thirty-five 
great-grandchildren — seventy-seven  direct  descend- 
ants. Aaron  bought  and  used  the  first  grain  cradle 
and  also  the  first  winnowing  fan.  At  the  age  of 
eighty  he  rode  on  horseback  to  visit  his  son  in  Ohio ; 
he  died  at  the  age  of  ninety-two.  Moses  married 
Jane  Fell,  and  later  Hannah  Good.  All  told,  he  had 
sixteen  children,  of  whom  James,  the  twelfth  child, 
was  my  mother's  father. 

Grandfather  James  and  Margaret  had  seven  chil- 
dren :  Mary,  Rachel,  Martha,  Hannah,  Francenia, 
Isaiah  and  James.  Mary  died  at  the  age  of  seventy- 
six.  Martha  married  John  E.  Kenderdine  of  Sole- 
bury  and  had  several  children  who  became  noted  for 
their  talents.  Thaddeus  wrote  the  beautiful  poem 
read  at  the  golden  wedding  of  father  and  mother. 
Hannah,  my  mother,  was  born  in  1809  and  lived  to  be 
ninety-four.  Isaiah  married  Ruth  Scarborough.  He 
was  about  eighty-four  when  he  died.  James  died  at 
the  age  of  ninety-one. 

The  unusual  prolificness  of  the  Quinby  family 
will  be  noted,  also  the  long  life  so  many  of  them 
attained.  To  sum  up,  Isaiah,  mother's  grandfather, 
lived  to  be  ninety-one ;  four  of  his  children  lived  to  be 
respectively,  eighty-one,  eighty-two,  eighty-eight, 
and  eighty-nine.  Of  mother's  brothers  and  sisters, 
one  lived  to  be  seventy-six,  one  eighty-four,  one 
eighty,  and  one  ninety-one.  The  average  life  of  the 
five,  including  mother,  was  eighty-five. 

This  being  in  no  sense  a  genealogy  of  the  Quinby 
family,  I  have  avoided  tracing  the  lateral  branches. 
I  have  given  so  much  space  to  the  Quinbys  partly 

19 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

because  of  the  remarkable  longevity  of  so  many  of 
the  members  and  partly  because  of  the  number  of 
children  in  each  family. 

A  most  pronounced  characteristic  of  all  the 
Quinbys  I  have  known,  in  my  own  generation  and  in 
the  two  preceding  ones,  is  their  sense  of  humor  and 
love  of  fun.  It  was,  of  course,  more  noticeable  in 
some  than  in  others,  but  they  all  had  it,  some  in  a 
marked  and  all  in  a  noticeable  degree.  I  think  this 
trait  is  one  that  helped  to  modify  the  pains,  sorrows 
and  tribulations  of  life,  and  it  is  one  reason  why  so 
many  reached  old  age.  (Besides,  they  worked  hard 
and  lived  out  of  doors  a  good  deal.)  Many  of  the 
men  were  given  to  practical  jokes,  but  did  not  usu- 
ally give  offense.  Later  I  will  have  some  observa- 
tions to  make  about  old  age  and  the  means  for 
attaining  it. 


20 


MY  MOTHER  ON  HER  NINETIETH  BIRTHDAY 


CHAPTER  V 

A  COURTSHIP  AND  WEDDING  OF 
LONG  AGO 

WHEN  or  where,  and  under  what  circumstances, 
Thomas  Atkinson  met  Hannah  Quinby  I  do  not 
know.  They  lived  many  miles  apart,  father's  home 
being  in  Wrightstown,  Pa.,  mother's  over  the  river 
in  New  Jersey.  But  they  did  meet,  courted,  and  were 
married  on  February  eleventh,  1836,  in  Solebury  (Pa.) 
Meeting  House.  They  lived  to  celebrate  their  gol- 
den wedding  at  their  home,  in  Upper  Dublin,  Mont- 
gomery county,  at  which  all  five  children  were  pres- 
ent. There  were  living,  at  that  time,  twenty-four 
grandchildren,  most  of  whom  also  were  present. 
The  original  certificate  of  marriage  was  read  with 
the  names  of  the  signers. 

The  celebration  was  a  most  interesting  occasion. 
A  son  of  mother's  sister  Martha,  Thaddeus  Kender- 
dine,  the  bard  of  Cuttalossa,  read  a  poem  of  reminis- 
cences which  gave  such  a  vivid  picture  of  the  bride's 
home,  the  arrival  of  the  lover  on  horseback,  and  the 
wedding,  that  I  deem  a  portion'  of  it  worth  a  place 
in  this  autobiography. 

A  low-hung  January  sun, 

With  horizontal  glances  pale, 
Looks  in  among  the  leafless  trees 

Which  line  the  Cuttalossa  vale. 
It  sees  along  a  quiet  road 

A  lonely  horseman  take  his  way, 
Hurrying  to  reach  the  river  shore 

Ere  night  had  blotted  out  the  day. 
21 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

The  laurel's  dry,  frost-bitten  leaves, 

Which  rattled  in  the  winter  breeze, 
The  dark,  funereal  shadows  thrown 

By  slow-swaying  hemlock  trees, 
The  icy  fords  he  waded  through 

The  frozen  roads  on  which  he  went, 
The  horseman  passed  all  heedlessly — 

His  thoughts  on  other  things  were  bent. 

He  crosses  o'er  the  echoing  bridge ; 

Adown  the  river  bank  he  goes, 
And  halts  beside  the  ferry  wharf, 

Where  icy  cold  the  water  flows. 
No  ferryman !    Halloa,  the  boat ! 

"  The  boat !  the  boat !  "  the  echoes  say ; 
And  soon  the  boatman's  distant  voice 

Growls  out  his  craft  is  on  its  way. 
And  now  the  clumsy,  square-toed  scow 

Grates  harshly  on  the  stony  shore, 
And  soon  the  lusty  boatman's  pole 

The  party  safely  ferries  o'er. 

******** 

Here  is  the  bottom  of  "  Goose  Hill," 
Here  is  the  home  of  "  Johnny  Mike ;  " 

Likewise  his  wife,  called  "  Mikey  John," 
A  kindly  soul  I  used  to  like. 

'Twas  she  who  every  Second-day 

With  sinewy  arms  rowed  o'er  the  water, 
Then  did  our  "  wash  "  and  ironing,  too, 

Rowed  home  and  only  charged  a  "  quarter." 
While  I  digress,  our  traveller 

Has  reached  the  Goose  Hill  burying  ground, 
Much  noted  for  its  many  "  spooks  " 

And  frightful  goblins  prowling  round. 

He  scarcely  notes  the  briar-grown  graves ; 

He's  not  the  sentimental  kind ; 
But  urging  on  his  weary  horse, 

Leaves  the  soul-harrowing  place  behind. 
Now  comes  another  steep  ascent, 

Where  whip  and  word  the  horse  assist, 
A  road  so  full  of  crookedness 

They  used  to  call  it  "  Federal  Twist" 

22 


A  COURTSHIP  AND  WEDDING  OF  LONG  AGO 

Here,  just  above,  a  lane  turned  in 

And  wandered  thro'  a  darksome  wood ; 
And  just  beyond  an  old  farmhouse, 

The  Mecca  of  our  horseman,  stood; 
I've  brought  our  hero  safely  through 

Where  wild  woods  glowered,  where  wild  waves 

rolled. 
I  leave  him  on  this  winter  night 

And  hope  that  he  will  not  catch  cold. 

Oh,  ye  who  gear  your  courting  nags 

To  ;'  falling-top  "  or  "  Jenny  Lind," 
And  ride  a  mile  or  two  to  court 

The  girl  on  whom  your  faith  is  pinned, 
Think  of  your  fathers — what  beset 

Each  matrimonial  beginning. 
But  as  you  pity,  don't  forget 

The  girls  thus  won  were  worth  the  winning! 

******** 
High  up  among  the  river  hills, 

The  low-roofed  Quinby  farmhouse  stood, 
O'erlooking  miles  of  valley  land 

Of  alternating  field  and  wood. 
And  here  lived  fifty  years  ago 

The  "  Quinby  Folks,"  a  family 
Whose  head  was  Mother  Margaret, 

With  her  two  sons  and  daughters  three. 

We'll  peep  into  that  old  farmhouse ; 

So  does  the  setting  sun  which  fills 
With  light  the  kitchen  as  it  sinks 

In  glory  'neath  the  Plumstead  hills. 
I  see  a  ceiling  long  and  low, 

Which  dingy  joists  is  resting  on, 
From  which  are  hung  dried  beef  and  hams 

And  sausage  and  the  family  gun. 

An  ample  hearth,  a  swinging  crane, 

Bright  andirons,  where  a  roaring  fire, 
Whose  blaze,  as  slowly  dies  the  sun, 

Mounts  up  the  chimney  higher  and  higher, 
A  blackened  shelf  extends  above, 

Where  flat-irons  range  with  candle-sticks; 
Beneath  a  comic  Almanac, 

The  date  is  Eighteen  Thirty-six. 

23 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

I  note  the  settle,  long  and  low, 

The  trough  they  used  for  kneading  dough, 
The  high-backed  chairs,  the  spinning-wheel, 

The  workstand  and  the  coffee-mill. 
The  fire-light  fights  the  gathering  gloom ; 

Its  beams  light  up  that  ancient  room, 
And,  as  the  faces  come  to  light, 

I'll  note  the  family  that  night. 

First  comes  grandmother  Margaret, 

Her  hair  unblanched  by  time  as  yet; 
A  snowy,  muslin  cap  she  wore, 

A  plain  'kerchief  her  breast  crossed  o'er ; 
And  plain,  too,  was  her  worsted  gown 

Of  home-spun  make,  dyed  butternut  brown. 
Before  her  marriage  she  was  good, 

And  good  was  she  throughout  her  life, 
In  all  positions  where  she  stood 

As  neighbor,  mother,  or  as  wife. 

I  noticed  by  the  wood-fire's  light 

The  folks  have  company  to-night. 
Is  it  aunt  Bithey  ?    Yes,  'tis  so ! 

The  other  one?    'Tis  uncle  Joe ! 
Of  old-styled  women  she  the  type, 

And  dearly  did  she  love  her  pipe. 
And  as  for  uncle  Joseph,  he 

Was  the  reader  of  the  family, 
Who  every  First-day  morn  would  come 

Across  fields  to  the  Quinby  home, 
Pass,  without  knocking,  through  the  door, 

And  walk  across  the  kitchen  floor; 
Nor  spake  he  to  a  single  soul 

As,  reaching  to  the  mantel  high, 
He  took  the  Doylestown  paper  down 

To  read  till  he  had  drained  it  dry. 

With  chair  a-tip  and  hat  on  head 

And  legs  twice  crossed,  he  read  and  read ; 
Nor  stopped  till  the  advertisements 

Were  in  his  wondrous  memory  wrapped. 
The  marriages  and  deaths  of  friends, 

Or  old-world  "  news  " — a  six  month  old 
He  gathered  in  with  hungry  mind, 

As  miser  gathers  in  his  gold. 
24 


SAMPLER  MADE  BY  MY  MOTHER  AT  THE  AGE  OF  FIFTEEN 


A  COURTSHIP  AND  WEDDING  OF  LONG  AGO 

He  heeded  not  the  family  talk, 

Nor  noise  the  needed  housework  made, 
Nor  Biggie,  as  with  pious  fraud, 

His  Bible  upside  down  he  read. 
Then  uncle  Joe,  the  paper  through, 

Without  a  word  passes  out  the  door, 
To  come  again  the  self-same  way 

When  "  paper-day  "  should  come  once  more. 

Another  form  of  humble  mien 

Is  sitting  in  the  corner  there. 
Quaint  and  uncouth  his  form  appears, 

With  open  mouth  and  frowsy  hair. 
You'll  note  by  looking  at  his  brow, 

He's  not  the  sense  the  laws  allow ; 
In  short,  in  wit  he  is  illegal — 

This  gentleman  is  Jacob  Biggie. 

The  girls  their  supper  tasks  assume, 

The  rest  go  in  the  sitting-room ; 
They  wheel  the  settle  from  the  wall, 

The  high-back  echoes  in  its  fall ; 
The  linen  tablecloth  is  spread, 

The  china  tea-set  on  it  laid ; 
The  sausage  simmers  in  the  pan, 

The  kettle  hisses  on  the  crane, 
The  coffee-mill  goes  round  and  round 

And  grinds  to  dust  the  toothsome  grain. 

And  now  out  come  the  rich  preserves, 
From  luscious  quince  and  cherry  made. 

"  Please  come  to  supper  "  is  announced — 
A  welcome  summons  quick  obeyed. 

The  folks  sit  down.    A  silent  grace 
Spreads  transient  quiet  o'er  each  face. 

We  note  the  viands  in  their  passage : 

First  "  buckwheat  cakes  and  Jersey  sassige," 
With  apple  butter  and  preserves, 

Coffee  so  strong  that  it  unnerves. 
Then  pies  made  in  two  different  ways, 

As  was  the  fashion  in  those  days. 
No  wonder  Robert  Winder  said 

He  wished  he'd  been  a  Dutchman  bred, 
For  then  he'd  that  true  pleasure  feel 

Of  having  pie  at  every  meal. 
25 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Not  all  the  family  supper  take, 

For  one  must  wait  the  cakes  to  bake ; 
And  it  is  Hannah  in  this  case, 

Right  willing,  too ;  she  can't  efface 
The  fact  that  one  had  not  appeared 

To  whom  she's  very  much  endeared. 
They  all  may  think  it  but  a  whim, 

But  she  will  wait  and  eat  with  him. 

They  tease  her,  too,  the  table  folks, 

With  comic  yarns  and  harmless  jokes. 
One  said  he  had  heard  tell  about 

A  Wrightstown  girl  who'd  cut  her  out ; 
That  Thomas  said  that  county  pride 

Would  make  him  seek  at  home  a  bride. 
Why  should  wife  hunters  want  to  roam 

When  the  woods  were  full  of  girls  at  home? 
Said  uncle  Joe,  while  low  he  laughed, 

"  I've  just  seen  Ambrose  Baracraft. 
He  says  the  river's  full  of  ice, 

The  boat  won't  cross  at  any  price ! " 

Then  Biggie  from  his  corner  spoke 

In  solemn  voice,  he  meant  no  joke, 
"  The  Goose  Hill  ghosts  are  worse  than  ever — 

Last  night  they  chased  me  to  the  river ; 
Thomas  they  saw  a-riding  by 

And  grabbed  him  off  the  same  as  a  fly ; 
And  there  they've  got  him  snug  and  tight, 

To  worry  him  the  live-long  night !  " 

Then  up  spake  mother,  low  and  mild : 
"  Why  do  you  pester  so  the  child? 

The  worriment  her  mind  has  turned ; 

Some  cakes  are  pale  and  some  are  burned. 

Hannah,  don't  mind  their  talk,  nor  fear; 
Thomas,  I  know,  will  soon  be  here." 

Just  then  knocks  sounded  on  the  door, 

And  Hannah  ran  across  the  floor. 
Somehow,  girls  always  seem  to  know 

The  rappings  of  the  coming  beau. 
She  let  him  in  the  cheerful  room, 

She  sent  Jake  out  to  feed  the  horse ; 
And,  when  he'd  thawed  his  chilly  frame, 

She  sat  him  down  to  eat,  of  course. 
26 


A  COURTSHIP  AND  WEDDING  OF  LONG  AGO 

The  supper  o'er,  the  table  cleared, 

The  dishes  washed  and  put  away, 
Hannah  and  Thomas  leave  the  room — 

Go  in  the  sitting-room  to  stay, 
To  talk  of  this  and  then  of  that — 

Perhaps  to  name  the  day  and  waiters, 
To  say  the  ceremony  o'er 

As  they  will  do  before  spectators. 

The  rest  around  the  wood-fire  sit, 

Grandmother  Margaret  does  knit ; 
While  aunt  Tabitha  lights  her  pipe 

And  both  talk  of  the  long  ago. 
Apples  and  cider  go  the  rounds 

Uncle  and  aunt  at  last  go  home ; 
The  fire  is  covered  for  the  night 

And  leaves  the  kitchen  filled  with  gloom. 

This  is  the  picture  I  would  paint 

Of  those  old  times  so  odd  and  quaint, 

One  evening  in  the  Quinby  home, 
Where  lived  our  parents  long  ago, 

Where  rugged,  honest  lives  were  lived — 
All  lived  for  use  and  not  for  show. 


The  winter  days  grow  on  apace, 

The  ground  is  carpeted  with  snow ; 
Commotion  'round  the  old  farmhouse 

Shows  some  event  is  on  the  go. 
Around  the  house  and  by  the  door, 

With  jingling  bells  comes  sleigh  on  sleigh. 
A  wedding  party,  I'll  be  bound, 

And  soon  with  glee  they're  on  their  way. 

Now  o'er  the  fields,  now  through  the  woods, 

Now  Federal  Twist  they  circle  round, 
Now  o'er  a  stretch  of  leveler  road, 

And  now  by  Goose  Hill's  haunted  ground. 
How  like  the  tamest  ghost  it  looked ! 

With  winding  sheet  of  snow  it  lay, 
Showing  how  night-time  terrors  fade 

When  tested  by  the  glare  of  day. 
27 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

The  sleighs  haste  to  the  river  shore, 

No  boat  is  there  to  take  them  o'er, 
But  something  else  which  will  suffice — 

A  toll-less  bridge  of  gleaming  ice. 
O'er  this  they  pass  with  merry  din, 

Mixed  with  some  fear  of  breaking  in, 
Then  through  the  town  of  Hard  Times  go, 

Then  up  the  hills  through  drifted  snow. 

Another  picture  I  will  paint — 

A  plain-built  meeting  house  of  stone, 
Girt  round  with  poplars  of  a  style 

And  fashion  we  have  since  outgrown. 
A  long,  low  row  of  wooden  sheds 

For  sheltering  of  gig  and  chair, 
A  solid  horse-block  at  one  end 

For  use  of  horsemen  riding  there. 


The  time  is  fifty  years  ago, 

Some  great  event  is  going  on, 
The  sheds  are  filled  up  full  and  teams 

Are  hitched  out  in  the  winter's  sun. 
We  look  within — the  seats  are  full — 

Our  curious  thoughts  do  not  abate — 
Our  host  and  hostess  here  are  met 

In  marriage  bonds  to  seal  their  fate. 

No  organ  fills  the  room  with  sound, 

No  choristers  their  voices  raise. 
They  simply  rise  with  quiet  mien, 

Their  solemn  voices  smite  the  air, 
They  vow  devotion  unto  death 

Before  the  friends  assembled  there. 

Perchance  some  ministering  friend 

The  spirit  moves  some  words  to  say, 
Then  hands  are  shaken,  meeting  breaks, 

All  towards  the  happy  pair  make  way, 
Congratulations  they  pour  in, 

Then  sign  they  the  certificate; 
They  leave  the  house,  they  mount  the  sleighs, 

With  cheerful  words  they  separate. 

28 


A  COURTSHIP  AND  WEDDING  OF  LONG  AGO 

I  pass  the  supper  given  that  night, 

When  Quinby  home  was  reached  again. 
I  pass  the  wedding  parties,  too ; 

Perhaps  they  didn't  give  them  then. 
I  sort  of  think  they're  out  of  place ; 

It  seems  like  such  a  downward  come, 
From  wedding  cakes,  preserves  and  such, 

To  pork  and  mush  and  milk  at  home. 

I  know  our  friends  were  full  of  hope — 

They  passed  the  world's  gates  opening  wide, 

And  hand  in  hand  down  life's  road 
They  worked  successful  side  by  side. 


Who  worked  the  leaven  in  the  lump? 

Whose  eyes,  far-seeing,  told  the  day 
Would  see  intemperance  fading  out 

And  slavery  pass  away? 
Who  but  the  noble  martyr  band 

Who  pressed  on  fifty  years  ago, 
All  mindless  of  rebuking  friend 

Or  persecuting  foe. 

And  foremost  'mongst  these  pioneers 

Our  honored  friends  were  always  seen, 
Working  for  fallen  humanity 

With  sympathies  full  keen. 
The  panting  slave  on  freedom's  road 

A  ready  welcome  always  found ; 
A  station  was  their  home  upon 

The  railroad  called  the  "  Underground." 

They  worked  full  mindful  of  the  light 

That  leads  toward  the  perfect  day. 
They  cared  not  for  rebuke  or  scorn 

Which  oft  beset  their  way. 
Now  as  they  near  life's  set  of  sun, 

Their  life  to  us  this  truth  imparts : 
Truthful  and  good,  their  work  well  done, 

They  acted  well  their  parts. 

29 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Excuse  the  long  digression  made ; 

I  couldn't  stop  till  I  had  paid 
Some  tribute  to  the  pioneers 

And  the  cause  they  served  so  many  years. 
And  here  we've  met  to  honors  pay 

To  those  who  in  that  distant  day 
Fought  amid  persecution's  storms 

The  battles  of  our  great  reforms. 

Their  morning's  sun  has  climbed  the  sky, 

Its  zenith  rays  their  fires  have  spent, 
And  now  its  mellow  after-glow 

Amid  their  golden  sands  is  blent ; 
So  that  their  hearts  are  warm  and  bright 

In  spite  of  age's  frosty  rime, 
Tho*  circling  years  have  borne  them  on 

Beyond  the  Psalmist's  time. 

Now  resting  on  life's  western  slope, 

The  sunset's  glowing  on  their  brows ; 
Children,  grandchildren  standing  round, 

Again  they  plight  their  vows ; 
May  many  years  pass  o'er  their  heads, 

As  full  of  usefulness  as  those 
They  lived  in  the  fifty  years 

Now  drawing  to  their  close. 


HANNAH  QUINBY 
In  her  young  womanhood 


CHAPTER  VI 
CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 

MY  grandfather  had  five  sons,  and  all  were  not 
needed  on  the  farm,  so  Thomas,  my  father,  went  to 
Newtown  and  learned  to  be  a  wheelwright.  In  the 
spring,  after  his  marriage  to  Hannah  Quinby,  he  and 
his  wife  settled  in  the  village  of  Concord,  in  Buck- 
ingham. He  opened  a  wagon  shop  there  and  carried 
on  for  a  year ;  but  the  lure  of  the  soil  was  so  strong 
that  he  pulled  up  stakes  in  the  spring  of  1837  and 
went  to  farming  on  a  fifty-six  acre  farm  which  he 
had  purchased  in  the  adjoining  township  of  War- 
wick. On  this  farm  my  boyhood  was  passed  for 
nine  years,  until  1849.  All  the  children  were  born 
there — Emma  in  1837,  James  in  1838,  Wilmer  in  1840, 
Mary  Anna  in  1843,  and  Albert  in  1846. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  mother  had  some 
work  to  do,  and  a  busy  woman  she  was.  No  less 
busy  was  father;  and  together,  with  industry  and 
thrift,  they  succeeded  in  improving  the  little  farm 
until  its  yield  was  sufficient  not  only  for  a  living,  but 
for  saving  money  enough  to  pay  off  nearly  or  quite 
all  of  the  mortgage  and  to  build  a  greatly  needed 
new  barn. 

The  farmhouse  was  small,  rather  too  small  for 
the  growing  family ;  and  the  fact  that  the  farm  was 
hilly  caused  my  father  to  wish  he  had  leveler  land 
so  there  would  be  less  up-hill  hauling.  He  planted 
out  an  orchard  and  enriched  the  land,  making  it,  in 
twelve  years,  one  of  the  most  productive  farms  in 
the  neighborhood. 

In  the  spring  of  1849  he  found  a  purchaser  for  it, 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

or  a  purchaser  found  him,  and  we  moved  to  Upper 
Dublin,  Montgomery  county,  on  a  somewhat  larger 
farm  with  no  hills. 

I  had  the  honor  of  going  with  father  to  receive 
the  money  for  the  Warwick  farm  and  to  pay  for  the 
new  one  bought.  I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  the 
affair  of  the  money  changers,  which  was  quite  dif- 
ferent from  the  way  settlements  are  made  nowa- 
days. Actual  gold  and  silver  money  was  in  evidence. 
Great  bags  of  it  were  pulled  out  of  canvas  bags  and 
counted  out  on  the  dining-room  table.  I  had  never 
seen  more  than  a  few  levies,  fips  and  quarters,  so  I 
was  fairly  dazed  at  the  sight  of  so  much  shining 
coin.  Every  man  around  the  board  had  to  have  his 
turn  at  counting,  but  everything  went  off  peaceably 
and  happily ;  all  seemed  satisfied. 

When  the  transaction  was  over,  somebody  gath- 
ered up  the  coin  in  the  bags  and  I  suppose  carried  it 
away.  I  do  not  think  father  got  any  of  it.  I  am 
sure  I  did  not.  The  fact  is,  a  boy  of  my  size  in  that 
generation  had  little  use  for  money  and  money  had 
no  lure  for  me.  We  were  quite  a  long  distance  from 
any  store,  and  father  did  all  the  shopping. 

The  event  I  first  remember  in  my  life  occurred 
at  the  Warwick  farm.  It  happened  to  me  on  an  icy 
morning,  after  a  night  blizzard.  I  was  probably 
three  years  old  then,  and  I  had  never  seen  the  ground 
covered  with  a  coating  of  ice  so  slippery  that  I  could 
not  run  out  to  the  barn  or  down  to  the  springhouse, 
whenever  I  chose  to  do  so.  There  was  an  apple 
tree,  midway  between  the  house  and  barn,  that  had 
been  partly  uprooted  and  blown  down  in  some  hurri- 
cane. It  was  left  as  it  fell,  one  end  of  the  trunk  fast  to 
the  ground,  the  other  end  about  three  feet  high.  I 
thought  to  get  that  far  towards  the  barn  and  I  accom- 
plished it ;  but  the  tree  trunk  was  glazed  with  ice,  so 

32 


SPINNING  WHEEL 


CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 

much  so  that  it  furnished  no  safe  harbor ;  and  there 
I  was  marooned — I  could  not  stick  on  the  tree,  nor 
go  on  to  the  barn,  nor  return  to  the  house.  I  must 
have  been  rescued  by  someone,  but  I  do  not  remem- 
ber that  I  was. 

Our  house  was  at  the  top  of  a  steep,  grassy  hill, 
which  afforded  a  good  place  to  coast  when  there  was 
snow  or  ice,  except  that  at  the  foot  there  were  some 
young  trees  and  underbrush  which  made  sledding 
dangerous.  No  matter.  We  took  the  plunge  and 
crashed  in  among  the  trees  more  than  once,  and  came 
out  with  some  bruises  but  without  broken  limbs  or 
cracked  skulls.  It  was  great  fun ! 

Father,  on  coming  to  Warwick,  brought  his  wheel- 
wright tools  with  him  and  set  up  a  work  bench. 
This  proved  to  be  a  great  thing  for  us  boys,  for  it 
enabled  us  to  cultivate  our  mechanical  talent. 
Among  the  tools  there  were  augers,  saws,  hatchets, 
hammers,  chisels,  gouges,  brace  and  bits,  squares, 
drawing  knives,  planes,  compasses,  gimlets,  and  there 
were  an  adze,  maul  and  wedges,  chopping  and  hew- 
ing axes — in  fact,  a  complete  equipment  of  tools 
adapted  to  wheelwrighting  and  carpentering.  Noth- 
ing could  be  finer  than  this,  and  we  took  advantage 
of  the  opportunity  to  learn  how  to  make  things — 
small  wagons,  sleds,  traps,  bow  guns — and  to  make 
repairs  to  implements  and  buildings  such  as  are  con- 
stantly needed  on  a  farm.  Many  a  rainy  day  was 
made  happy  for  us  by  a  resort  to  the  shop,  and  many 
a  dollar  was  saved  in  the  way  of  repairs.  Of  course, 
I  did  not  count  for  much  on  the  Warwick  farm  as  a 
mechanical  expert,  but  the  tools  followed  us  to  Upper 
Dublin  and  there  I  learned  to  use  them. 

One  of  the  drawbacks  to  the  little  farm  was  that 
there  was  no  pump  nor  other  water  supply  at  the 
house.  This  made  it  hard  for  mother,  but  it  was  my 

3  33 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

duty,  after  I  got  old  enough,  to  act  as  a  water-carrier 
when  I  could  be  found  at  leisure.  But  I  do  not  recall 
that  I  was  a  very  great  success  at  that  work.  I 
would  rather  go  chestnutting,  sledding,  or  tinkering 
in  the  shop.  Much  could  not  be  expected  of  a  little 
fellow  of  eight  years  or  less ! 

There  was  good,  soft  water  at  the  spring-house ; 
and  it  was  there  we  kept  our  milk  and  butter  and,  in 
hot  weather,  the  food  left  over  from  the  table.  We 
had  no  ice-house ;  we  really  did  not  need  any.  The 
floor  of  the  spring-house  was  flagged  about  ten  feet 
square  in  the  centre.  Outside  of  the  flagging,  there 
was  running  cool  spring-water  all  around,  in  a  space 
three  feet  wide,  in  which  the  milk  was  set  for  cream, 
and  the  butter  kept  standing  in  pots.  It  was  here 
that  mother  worked  the  butter;  and  just  outside  the 
door  the  churning  was  done.  Churning  was  a  thing 
I  did  not  admire  very  much,  for  it  tired  me.  Fortu- 
nately, the  spring-house  was  quite  near  the  dwelling. 

As  I  write  this,  the  country — indeed,  the  greater 
part  of  the  world — is  in  the  throes  of  a  sugar  famine. 
For  weeks  we  have  not  been  able  to  buy  at  the  stores 
more  than  one-fourth  of  the  sugar  supposed  to  be 
needful  for  our  households.  The  reason  for  the 
scarcity,  as  alleged  by  some  authorities,  is  that  the 
per  capita  of  sugar  consumed  by  our  people  has  greatly 
increased  over  former  years,  that  the  sugar  produced  is 
inadequate  for  the  present  increased  demand. 

I  am  not  now  interested  in  solving  the  problem 
of  the  sugar  famine.  I  only  refer  to  it  to  say  that 
sugar  is  not  a  necessity  as  a  human  food,  that  there 
are  substitutes  which  answer  very  well — for  instance, 
molasses,  maple  syrup,  and  honey.  As  I  recall  my 
youth,  both  at  the  Warwick  and  Upper  Dublin  farms, 
we  children  were  not  supplied  with  sugar  at  all. 
None  of  us  drank  tea  or  coffee,  though  father  and 

34 


CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 

mother  drank  them  both  and  used  sugar  for  sweet- 
ening the  beverages.  We  always  had  molasses  on 
the  table  at  every  meal  and  freely  helped  ourselves 
to  it.  We  used  it  on  buckwheat  cakes,  on  cornmeal 
mush,  and  on  bread  with  butter.  There  was  no  fine 
granulated  sugar  such  as  we  have  now,  and  the 
coarse,  brown  sugar  sold  in  the  stores  was  not 
relished  and  not  eaten.  As  I  do  not  remember  ever 
being  sick  on  the  Warwick  farm,  apart  from  an  occa- 
sional cold,  or  ever  being  shy  of  an  appetite,  I  con- 
clude that  sugar  was  not  necessary  as  a  ration  for 
us.  As  for  candy,  we  did  not  have  it,  unless  occa- 
sionally a  few  mint  sticks.  We  sometimes  had  ginger 
cakes,  but  these  were  sweetened  with  molasses.  It 
is  said  that  the  consumption  of  sugar  in  this  country 
is  three  or  four  times  as  great  as  it  was  a  few  years 
ago,  and  we  probably  now  consume  three  or  four 
times  more  than  is  good  for  us. 

The  most  interesting  thing  on  the  Warwick  farm 
was  the  deep  hole  in  Neshaminy  creek,  a  beautiful 
stream  which  flowed  along  the  lower  end  of  the 
place,  a  half  mile  away.  A  boy  cares  less  for  shallow 
water  in  which  he  can  not  drown  than  for  a  deep 
hole  where  he  runs  some  risk  of  going  under  to  stay. 
We  had  such  a  danger  spot  in  the  creek,  and  it  was 
there  I  learned  the  art  of  swimming,  not  by  the  aid 
of  a  teacher  at  three  dollars  an  hour,  but  by  straddling  a 
fence  rail,  which  cost  nothing,  and  paddling  there.  I 
could  not  have  been  more  than  eight  years  old  when  I 
thus  learned  to  swim. 

I  do  not  think  there  were  many  fish  in  the  stream, 
but  why  I  do  not  know.  There  was  plenty  of  room 
for  them.  There  were,  I  believe,  some  catties  and 
sunfish,  but  I  did  not  take  much  interest  in  fishing. 
I  do  remember  once  gigging  for  eels  and  getting 
one  or  two. 

35 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

At  the  period  of  which  I  write,  flies  were  a  terrible 
plague.  It  was  not  realized  by  our  forefathers  that 
horses  and  cows  are  the  principal  propagators  of 
these  pests,  so  they  placed  their  stables  and  cow 
yards  near  the  dwellings  for  the  sake  of  convenience, 
the  consequence  being  that  they  suffered  extremely 
from  the  fly  nuisance.  It  was  so  on  the  Warwick 
farm.  Indeed,  the  cows  were  brought  up  close  to 
the  house  in  summer  time  to  be  milked.  In  the  fly 
season  mother  battled  from  day  to  day  against  the  flies, 
switching  them  out,  and  darkening  the  house,  so 
they  would  not  come  back.  We  used  to  have  a  fly- 
brush  to  keep  them  off  the  table  when  we  ate ;  and  it 
kept  us  busy  brushing  the  flies  away  from  our  food. 
There  were  no  fly  screens  then,  but  strips  of  paper 
made  into  a  brush  and  fastened  to  a  handle  did  duty, 
except  when  we  had  company.  Then  a  beautiful 
peacock-feather  brush  was  brought  into  service.  Had 
the  barn-  and  cow-yards  been  farther  away,  we  would 
not  have  been  quite  so  much  pestered.  I  vividly  re- 
call that  mother,  after  clearing  off  the  table,  washing 
the  dishes,  and  darkening  the  dining-room,  went  to 
take  a  nap,  a  habit  that  was  well  fixed  in  her  early 
housekeeping  days  and  never  relinquished;  but  before 
going  upstairs  she  would  set  a  trap  for  the  flies  at  a 
window  with  shutters  partly  opened  to  let  the  light 
in,  the  trap  consisting  of  a  glass  filled  with  soapy 
water,  on  top  of  which  there  was  placed  a  slice  of 
sweetened  bread  with  a  hole  in  the  centre.  A  trap 
thus  set  would  catch  hundreds,  yes,  thousands  of 
flies,  while  mother  was  taking  her  nap. 

The  first  school  I  went  to  was  at  Tinkertown,  a 
mile  away.  I  must  have  been  about  six  years  of  age 
then.  Near  the  school  was  a  spreading  chestnut 
tree,  such  as  Goldsmith  has  described,  under  which, 
during  recreation  hour,  we  searched  for  chestnuts 

36 


AT  THE  BLACKSMITH'S 


CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 

but  never  found  any,  though  the  great  number  of  open 
burrs  lured  us  on.  Also  there  was  a  blacksmith's 
shop  which  made  music  for  us.  I  do  not  remember 
that  I  learned  much  at  Tinkertown. 

The  next  summer  I  went  to  the  Dark  Hollow 
school,  even  further  away.  I  can  recall  neither  the 
form  nor  the  name  of  the  teacher  there,  but  I  do  re- 
member that  during  school  hours  I  had  no  desk,  but 
sat  with  other  little  boys  on  an  oak  slab,  flat  side  up, 
with  no  rest  for  the  back.  There  was  no  fun  in  that, 
but  outdoors  there  was  lots  of  sport.  Father  would 
never  take  any  excuse,  unless  a  very  unusual  one, 
for  my  staying  at  home.  To  school  I  went  every 
day,  and  every  day  sat  on  the  oak  slab  for  several 
hours.  The  teacher  never  thrashed  me,  so  far  as  I 


THE   OAK   SLAB 


remember,  but  I  was  afraid  he  would,  for  he  trounced 
some  of  the  other  boys  on  my  row.  I  remember  one 
snowy  morning  that  I  wished  to  stay  at  home  on 
account  of  the  weather,  but  father  said,  "  No."  The 
snow  was  shoetop  deep  and  that  seemed  to  me 
reason  enough  for  not  venturing  out,  but  father 
brought  out  a  great  big  plough-horse  and  put  me  on 
his  bare  back  and  off  I  sorrowfully  went.  When  I 
got  half-way  to  Dark  Hollow,  I  slid  off  and  walked 
home.  I  guess  the  horse  did  the  same.  What  hap- 
pened afterwards  I  do  not  remember. 

At  this  school  there  was  a  rosy-faced,  red-haired 
girl  with  curls,  a  little  younger  than  I,  she  being 
seven,  I  eight.  I  thought  she  was  mighty  nice,  but 
I  never  told  her  of  my  adoration.  She  was  really 
the  only  girl  that  took  my  fancy  at  that  school.  Years 

37 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

after  I  learned  that  she  grew  to  weigh  two  hundred  and 
ten  pounds  and  wore  her  hair  in  a  bunch  on  the  back  of 
her  neck.  If  she  ever  had  a  fancy  for  me  I  did  not 
know  of  it,  and  probably  never  will  now.  As  the  poet 
exclaimed,  "  Of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen,  the 
saddest  are  these,  it  might  have  been." 

Across  the  road,  just  a  little  higher  up,  lived  a 
neighbor  by  the  name  of  Yonker.  The  housewife 
and  mother  were  great  friends.  We  called  her 
"  Auntie  Yonker,"  and  I  liked  her  very  much  for 
three  reasons.  First,  she  would  let  me  go  through 
their  big  orchard  and  pick  up  any  ripe  apple  I  fancied 
and  eat  it;  second,  whenever  she  met  me  she  said, 
"  Highty,  Tighty ; "  and  third,  she  always  looked 
pleasant.  I  fancy  the  cheerful  "  Highty,  Tighty  " 
was  more  effective  in  winning  my  regard  than 
anything  else. 

The  Warwick  farm  almost  supported  the  family. 
A  sack  of  corn  was  taken  from  the  crib,  a  bag  of 
wheat  from  the  bin,  carried  to  the  mill,  often  on 
horseback,  and  ground  into  meal  for  mush  and  bread. 
In  return  for  grinding  the  miller  would  retain  part 
of  the  grist,  some  thought  a  little  too  much  at  times. 
The  meal  was  made  into  mush  and  from  this  we  got 
much  of  our  sustenance.  Mother  knew  how  to  pre- 
pare and  serve  the  mush,  now  one  of  the  lost  arts. 
She  put  it  on  the  fire  to  cook  at  noon,  or  it  may  have 
been  in  the  morning,  and  kept  it  there  all  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day.  I  can  almost  fancy  I  hear  it 
puffing  and  bubbling  now.  When  thoroughly  boiled 
in  this  slow  way,  allowed  to  get  cool  and  fried,  it 
made,  with  molasses  or  gravy,  a  delicious  breakfast 
dish  which  went  to  the  right  spot  and  stayed  there 
until  the  next  meal.  Few  of  this  generation  really 
know  what  a  wholesome  and  appetizing  dish  fried 

38 


CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 

mush  can  be  made.  We  had  it  for  breakfast  nearly 
every  morning,  fried  potatoes  sometimes  taking  the 
place  of  mush  at  night. 

Our  cows  provided  the  milk,  butter,  and  cottage 
cheese  in  abundance.  The  cows  were  fed  from  crops 
grown  on  the  farm.  No  feed  was  bought  for  them 
and  most  of  the  butter  and  some  of  the  cottage  cheese 
were  sent  to  market.  The  cows,  horses,  hogs,  and 
chickens  furnished  the  fertilizer  to  nourish  the  crops. 
Meat  was  derived  from  an  old  fat  cow,  past  her 
prime,  or  a  young  steer  was  killed  in  the  fall,  and 
the  meat  cured  and  stored  for  the  year's  consump- 
tion. The  bull  calves  were  fattened  and  turned  into 
savory  meat,  part  of  which  was  sold.  Enough  dried 
beef  was  cured  in  the  fall  to  last  most  of  the  year 
through.  It  was  not  smoked,  nor  the  flavor  and 
nutritious  quality  destroyed  by  saltpeter. 

A  pen  of  fat  hogs  provided  pork,  ham,  sausages, 
scrapple,  and  lard  for  the  family  all  the  year  round, 
with  some  to  sell.  Sausage  made  in  the  winter 
packed  away  in  stone  jars,  covered  with  lard,  rein- 
forced our  supply  of  meat  through  the  summer  and 
fall.  When  company  was  expected,  usually  a  fat,  lazy 
old  rooster,  or  a  hen  that  had  jumped  her  job,  was 
called  on  to  make  things  pleasant  for  hungry  guests. 

Tallow,  from  beef  killing,  was  all  utilized,  some 
of  it  for  candles.  We  children  did  most  of  the  dip- 
ping. In  making  the  candles  the  tallow  was  melted 
in  a  large  kettle.  Cotton  wicks  were  strung  on 
sticks,  a  dozen  or  so  on  a  stick,  and  these  were  dipped 
into  the  melted  tallow.  As  soon  as  the  hot  tallow 
cooled  off,  the  wicks  were  again  dipped  and  so  on, 
until  the  candles  had  grown  to  a  proper  size.  These 
would  last  a  whole  year.  A  few  years  later,  tin 
candle-moulds  came  into  vogue,  into  which  the 

39 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

melted  tallow  was  poured.  We  used  one  and  did 
away  with  the  dipping,  but  I  do  not  think  we  gained 
anything  by  the  change. 

We  made  our  own  soap  with  lye  drained  from 
the  wood  ashes  from  our  ten-plate  stove.  We  grew 
our  own  broom  corn  and  made  our  own  brooms  and 
whisks.  We  mended  broken  wagons  and  harness. 
We  cut  our  own  logs,  and  hewed  them  for  building 
purposes.  We  made  our  fence  posts  and  rails.  This 
is  the  way  we  got  along  year  after  year.  Thus  we 
produced  most  of  what  we  required  for  our  comfort, 
convenience,  and  sustenance,  besides  many  things 
we  sent  to  market.  Mother  had  no  time  for  much 
preserving  and  we  got  along  very  well  with  baked 
apples,  sauces  from  pears,  peaches,  grapes  and  ber- 
ries ;  and  in  the  fall  we  made  a  great  kettle  of  apple 
butter  which  was  put  away  in  crocks  for  use  through- 
out the  year.  Apple  butter  requires  long  boiling, 
first  the  cider,  then  the  apples.  The  stuff  made  now- 
adays and  sold  in  the  markets  is  not  the  real  thing. 

We  made  our  own  mince-meat,  our  cider,  and  our 
vinegar.  In  all  the  years  we  lived  in  Warwick  and 
in  Upper  Dublin,  mother  was  a  very  busy  woman. 
With  five  children  to  care  for  she  yet  did  most  of 
the  work  of  the  household — the  sweeping,  cooking, 
baking,  the  butter  making  and  the  soap  making.  It 
is  almost  inconceivable  how  she  stood  the  strain ;  I 
always  thought  it  was  the  after-dinner  nap  which 
she  never  failed  to  take  that  enabled  her  to  accom- 
plish all  she  did  without  breaking  down.  Add  to 
this  a  tough  constitution,  an  even  temper,  a  sense  of 
humor,  a  helpful  husband,  and  an  inheritance  from 
a  long  line  of  hardy  ancestors. 

We  had  a  woman  to  come  to  do  the  washing 
once  a  week.  I  have  reason  to  remember  this  tem- 
peramental female  from  an  affair  which  took  place 

40 


CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 

one  morning  when  she  was  present  to  do  the  wash- 
ing. My  brother  James  and  myself  were  having 
great  fun  jumping  over  the  clothes-basket  full  of 
damp  clothes,  first  across  from  side  to  side.  Suc- 
ceeding at  that  we  then  tested  our  ability  to  jump 
over  the  basket  the  long  way.  James  got  safely 
over,  but  in  my  attempt  1  caught  my  feet  in  the 
basket  and  upset  it,  spilling  the  wet  clothes  over  the 
floor  and  upsetting  myself,  too.  That  was  too  much 
for  the  woman  and  we  had  to  scamper  to  escape  a 
justified  chastisement.  After  that  we  tried  hurdles 
which  did  not  involve  so  much  risk. 

Tommie  Foster  was  our  shoemaker.  He  was  a 
very  short,  round  man,  with  a  bald  head  and  a  nature 
somewhat  crusty  and  taciturn.  His  mission  in  life 
was  to  go  from  home  to  home,  remaining  a  week  or 
so  at  each,  while  he  fixed  up  the  footwear  of  the 
family  for  a  whole  year.  He  made  new  shoes,  heeled, 
soled,  and  patched  old  ones.  Father  would  go,  in 
advance  of  his  coming,  to  the  tannery  and  buy 
leather  enough  to  keep  Tommie  busy  a  full  week. 
While  his  name  was  Tommie  Foster,  I  was  not  able 
to  pronounce  the  name  correctly.  The  best  I  could 
do  was  to  call  him  "  Tommie  Tossin,"  and  that  is 
the  name  that  he  came  to  be  known  by.  He  was 
paid  about  one  dollar  for  a  day  of  twelve  hours,  with 
board  thrown  in.  He  made  shoes  and  boots  of  good 
breadth  and  ample  length,  allowing  for  growth  until 
he  should  come  again.  Occasionally,  the  children's 
shoes  had  to  be  sent  to  him  to  be  patched  between 
visits.  They  do  things  differently  now.  When  "  Tom- 
mie Tossin  "  got  really  busy  and  deeply  absorbed  in 
his  work,  he  did  not  like  us  prying  children  to  come 
near  him ;  and  so  to  give  us  warning  of  his  displeas- 
ure he  would  pull  his  wax  threads  out  with  both 
hands  as  far  as  he  could  reach,  bang  with  his  fists 

41 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

the  inquisitive  heads  on  each  side  of  him,  and  knock 
them  spinning  away  to  the  far  sides  of  the  room. 
We  learned  to  be  careful  not  to  go  near  him ;  he 
meant  we  should  learn.  In  those  days  rubbers  were 
unknown,  but  we  greased  our  shoes  and  boots  on 
rainy  days,  so  they  would  keep  the  wet  out  as  well 
as  rubbers  do,  and  the  grease  made  the  leather 
last  better. 

Thus,  it  will  be  seen  how  we  lived,  simply  and 
abundantly,  obtaining  nearly  all  our  sustenance  from 
the  land.  Our  excess  of  produce,  of  which  we  had 
considerable,  furnished  the  needed  money  to  make 
our  simple  life  a  financial  success. 

Not  long  ago  I  visited  the  Warwick  farm,  reviv- 
ing memories  of  my  boyhood  there.  The  house  has 
disappeared  and  nearby  is  a  modern  structure  of 
frame,  occupied  by  the  present  owner  of  the  premises. 
The  barn  which  father  built  in  1847  is  standing  very 
much  as  it  used  to  be  seventy  years  ago.  The 
spring-house,  too,  is  there  and  the  fresh,  pure  water 
is  still  bubbling  up  in  the  spring.  Where  our  house 
stood  is  a  depression  in  the  ground  about  two  feet 
deep  and  ten  feet  across.  In  the  centre  a  solitary 
quince  tree,  eight  feet  high,  stands  guard — that  is  all. 
"Auntie  Yonker,"  our  kind  old  neighbor,  with  her 
pleasant  "  Highty,  Tighty !  "  is  nowhere  to  be  found. 
The  beautiful  valley  of  the  Neshaminy  still  charms 
the  eye  of  the  beholder. 

THREE  VISITS  TO  GRANDFATHER'S 

I  come  now  to  tell  of  my  visits  to  grandfather  in 
Wrightstown,  five  miles  from  our  Warwick  farm.  I 
made  three  somewhat  extended  visits  there.  The 
first  one  appears  to  have  been  made  at  the  time  when 
my  younger  sister,  Mary  Anna,  mother  of  Charles, 
appeared  on  the  scene  at  home  in  December,  1843. 

42 


CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 

It  was  thought  that  it  would  be  a  relief  to  the  situa- 
tion in  our  home,  at  that  tragic  time,  for  me,  under 
the  care  of  aunt  Sibby  and  aunt  Sallie,  to  take  a 
short  vacation.  I  did  not  decline  to  go ;  and,  if  I  had 
done  so,  it  would  have  made  no  difference.  During 
this  and  subsequent  visits,  when  Albert  was  born, 
and  also  when  I  was  eight  years  old,  I  was  enabled 
to  become  well  acquainted  with  my  aunts,  and  to 
realize  what  good  friends  they  were  to  me.  Being, 
at  the  time  of  my  first  visit,  only  three  and  one-half 
years  old,  I  have  a  recollection,  and  that  a  vague  one, 
of  only  one  incident  that  occurred  during  my  stay.. 
My  sister  Emma,  three  years  older  than  I,  was 
my  companion  on  this  visit.  I  suppose  it  was 
thought  I  would  be  less  trouble  to  my  aunts  than  if 
I  went  alone.  It  wasn't  long  after  our  arrival  when 
my  sister  became  homesick  and  set  her  heart  on 
getting  back  to  Warwick  as  soon  as  possible.  That 
the  powers  that  controlled  our  destiny,  for  the  time 
being,  desired  to  put  a  veto  on  Emma's  proposal  to 
go  home  with  me  is  almost  certain.  But  what  was  a 
veto  when  self-willed  Emma  had  a  scheme  of  her 
own  for  getting  away?  She  surreptitiously  com- 
municated her  plans  to  me,  but  to  no  one  else.  I 
was  enjoined  to  secrecy.  Now,  I  was  not  homesick 
at  all,  but  quite  happy  in  my  environment,  but  I 
was  reluctantly  persuaded  that  we  had  better  get 
home  as  soon  as  we  could.  I  remember  the  morn- 
ing well  when  we  were  to  flee.  The  men  were  filling 
the  ice-house,  an  evidence  that  the  mercury  was 
pretty  low.  My  sister's  scheme  was  to  throw  her 
cloak  and  my  scarf  from  a  second-story  window,  un- 
observed by  any  of  our  keepers;  and  the  plan  was 
successfully  carried  out.  This  was  an  enterprising 
undertaking  for  a  little  girl  of  seven.  We  must  get 
warm  first,  and  I  recollect  Emma  sitting  by  the  stove 

43 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

warming  her  feet,  and,  while  doing  so,  calling  quietly 
to  me  to,  "  Come,  Willie,  come  and  warm  thy  feet, 
we  have  a  big  day  before  us."  She  was  right;  it 
turned  out  to  be  a  big  day.  We  soon  started  off 
a-foot  for  the  five-mile  tramp  with  a  deep  creek  to 
cross  halfway  between  the  two  homes.  The  weather 
moderated  towards  noon,  and  the  snow  which  cov- 
ered the  ground  began  to  thaw,  and  before  we  got  to 
the  creek  the  road  was  full  of  slush.  By  that  time  I 
was  very  tired.  My  legs  were  too  short  to  travel 
very  fast,  but  my  sister  spurred  me  on.  Emma  tells 
me  now  that  I  fell  down  every  little  while.  When 
nearing  the  creek  we  halted  at  a  farm-house  osten- 
sibly to  get  a  drink  of  water,  but  really  to  recon- 
noitre. The  folks  there  began  soon  to  inquire  who 
we  were,  where  we  were  going,  and  what  for.  They 
perceived,  I  think,  that  we  were  fugitives,  and  upon 
inquiry  learned  where  we  belonged.  They  took  us 
in  and  not  only  watered  us,  but  fed  us  on  cake,  and 
soon  notified  grandfather  of  our  capture. 

After  a  delay  of  several  hours,  a  solitary  horse- 
man pulled  up  in  front  of  the  house  where  we  were 
stopping.  He  turned  out  to  be  our  uncle  Edward  who 
had  come  to  arrest  us  in  our  flight. 

The  decision  was  to  take  Emma  on  over  the 
creek  on  the  way  to  Warwick  and  to  carry  me  back 
to  grandfather's,  where  I  arrived  about  nightfall 
nearly  frozen  stiff,  the  weather  having  become  cold 
again.  Aunt  Sallie  greeted  me  pleasantly,  as  she 
always  did,  and  asked  me  where  I  had  been,  whom  I 
had  seen,  and  whether  I  had  seen  any  children  where 
we  stopped.  I  answered,  "  Yes,  I  did  see  plenty  of 
children  and  plenty  of  dirt  on  their  faces."  I  was 
taken  in  and  warmed  up,  and  so  ended  the  runaway 
incident.  Emma  arrived  safely  at  our  Warwick 
home,  much  to  our  parents'  surprise.  This  is  the 

44 


CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 

only  circumstance  that  I  can  recall  during  my  first 
visit  to  grandfather's.  I  made  my  second  visit 
three  years  later,  which  was  occasioned  by  my 
brother  Albert's  appearing  on  the  scene  for  the  first 
time  at  Warwick.  He  was  six  years  younger  than  I. 

I  remember  that  during  my  second  visit  I  was  at 
one  time  afflicted  with  a  violent  toothache.  It  was 
a  new  experience,  and  I,  in  consequence,  was  much 
crestfallen.  It  was  proposed  that  I  go  to  Pineville 
and  have  the  tooth  extracted,  but  that  idea  gave  me 
almost  as  much  mental  as  I  was  suffering  physical 
pain.  Finally,  however,  aunt  Sibby  prevailed  on 
me  to  go  with  her  to  the  dentist  and  have  the  acher 
drawn  out.  The  doctor's  instruments  answered  the 
purpose  intended,  the  pain  ceased,  and  I  came  home 
quite  satisfied  that  the  tooth  and  I  had  parted  company. 

On  one  occasion  the  men  were  threshing  on  the 
barn  floor,  and  I  climbed  up  the  hay  shoot  to  take  a 
clear  view  of  the  operation  from  the  mow,  or  per- 
haps to  search  for  eggs.  The  affair  would  have 
passed  off  without  any  excitement,  had  I  not  lost 
my  hold  and  balance  in  some  way  and  tumbled  down 
the  shoot  upon  the  steps  or  floor  below,  a  distance  of 
ten  or  twelve  feet.  After  a  time  I  was  found  by 
someone,  lying  in  an  unconscious  condition.  Much 
concern  was  felt  by  the  folks,  so  I  am  told.  I  was 
carried  to  the  house  and  put  to  bed.  I  do  not  remem- 
ber how  long  it  was  before  consciousness  returned, 
but  I  remember  that  for  some  time  I  felt  quite  dizzy, 
weak,  and  out  of  sorts.  It  is  a  wonder  I  had  not,  as 
a  result  of  the  fall,  a  broken  or  a  strained  limb  or  a 
fractured  skull;  but  fortunately,  nothing  of  the 
kind  happened. 

During  this  visit  I  sometimes  acted  as  an  errand 
boy.  One  regular  job  I  had  was  carrying  the  mid- 
morning  lunch  to  the  men  in  the  hay  and  harvest 

45 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

fields.  It  had  been  for  a  long  time,  and  still  was, 
the  custom  to  include  liquor  in  this  repast,  along  with 
bread  and  butter,  some  cheese,  cold  meats  and  cherry 
pie ;  but  grandfather  had  broken  away  from  the  cus- 
tom, thus  leading  in  the  temperance  reform.  I  think 
grandfather  was  pioneer  in  refusing  rum  to  his  men, 
so  he  started  the  prohibition  movement  over  seventy- 
five  years  ago.  I  remember  that  the  men  did  not 
like  the  innovation  and  took  their  displeasure  out  on 
the  little  boy  who  brought  their  food  to  them,  and  so 
teased  me  for  omitting  the  fire-water. 

During  my  third  somewhat  extended  visit  to  my 
grandfather's  when  I  was  eight  years  old,  a  city  boy 
by  the  name  of  Jim  Taggart  was  brought  home  from 
Philadelphia  by  grandfather  in  his  market  wagon. 
I  soon  got  acquainted  with  Jim  and  we  had  lots  of 
sport  together.  He  had  the  habit  of  daring  me  to  do 
things  which  he  conceived  to  be  "hazardous  or  impos- 
sible, and  I  did  not  like  to  take  any  reasonable  dare. 
There  was  a  smoke-house  on  the  edge  of  the  garden, 
about  ten  feet  high,  and  Jim  dared  me  to  climb  up 
to  the  top  of  it  and  jump  from  the  peak  to  the 
ground,  and  said  he  would  give  me  a  bright,  new, 
copper  cent  if  I  would  take  the  jump.  I  know  this 
was  the  year  1848,  because  that  was  the  date  of  the 
new  coin.  I  did  not  like  to  accept  the  challenge  a 
bit,  but  the  dare  and  the  copper  coin  were  such 
tempting  baits  that  I  did  accept  it.  It  did  me  no 
harm,  and  I  got  the  new  penny,  and  wish  now  I  had 
kept  it  as  a  memento  of  the  occasion.  Grandfather 
often  warned  me  against  Taggart  and  all  other  city 
boys ;  they  knew  so  much  more  than  country  boys ; 
that  is,  they  had  the  kind  of  knowledge  that  we  ought 
not  to  possess. 

During  my  third  visit  I  was  sent  to  school,  two 
miles  away  by  the  road,  but  considerably  less  far 

46 


CHILDHOOD  ON  THE  WARWICK  FARM 

across  fields.  The  school  was  kept  by  Ruth  Beans, 
who  was  deemed  an  excellent  teacher,  but  who  was 
so  cross  that  aunt  Sallie  said  she  upset  my  nerves 
and  made  me  ill.  I  was  afraid  of  her  and  I  was  not 
the  only  one  who  was.  I  learned  very  little  the  few 
weeks  I  was  dominated  by  her.  Finally,  I  was  taken 
away  from  the  school.  Any  teacher  who  is  cross 
cannot  win  the  love  of  her  pupils  and  ought  to  en- 
gage in  some  other  calling,  or  modify  or  eliminate 
her  acerbity. 

Jonathan  Atkinson,  my  grandfather,  lived  on  the 
place  nearly  all  his  life,  and  his  grandson,  Wilmer  Atkin- 
son Twining,  aunt  Sallie's  son,  still  lives  there.  It  is  on 
the  trolley  line  between  Newtown  and  Doylestown. 


47 


CHAPTER  VII 
BOYHOOD  ON  THE  UPPER  DUBLIN  FARM 

HAVING  now  told  of  my  boyish  experiences  on 
the  Warwick  farm  and  at  grandfather's  in  Wrights- 
town,  I  am  ready  to  continue  my  narrative  and  talk 
about  my  life  in  Upper  Dublin.  As  I  said  before, 
our  new  home  was  in  Montgomery  county,  eleven 
miles  from  our  Warwick  place.  I  lived  there  from 
1849  until  1862,  a  period  of  thirteen  years,  from  the 
age  of  nine  to  the  age  of  twenty-two,  save  for  the 
two  winter  terms,  when  I  taught  public  school  away 
from  home,  and  the  two  years  when  I  attended 
Foulke's  Boarding  School  and  Freeland  Seminary, 
now  Ursinus  College. 

How  much  I  missed  by  not  taking  a  full  college 
course,  I  am  unable  to  say.  I  have  no  regrets  that 
my  father  had  not  the  means  to  bear  the  expenses 
of  a  college  education  for  me.  I  am  much  inclined 
to  think  that  the  school  of  hard  knocks,  from  which  I 
graduated,  affords  about  as  good  an  education  as 
any  young  man  can  have. 

The  last  days  of  March,  of  the  year  1849,  were 
busy  days  on  the  Warwick  farm,  for  we  were  pre- 
paring to  abandon  our  old  home  in  Bucks  county 
and  remove  to  our  new  one  in  Montgomery  county ; 
and  we  not  only  had  to  move  our  household  goods, 
but  our  farming  implements,  our  tools,  our  cattle, 
our  pigs,  our  wagons,  and  sleds,  some  of  our  crops, 
and  all  the  various  equipment  of  a  well-stocked  farm. 
Ours  was  a  family  of  seven,  father  aged  thirty-seven 
years;  mother,  thirty-nine;  Emma,  thirteen;  James, 
eleven;  Wilmer,  nine;  Mary  Anna,  six;  and  Albert, 

48 


BOYHOOD  ON  THE  UPPER  DUBLIN  FARM 

three.  As  I  remember,  aunt  Sallie  came  with  us  to 
help  us  get  safely  transferred  and  settled.  Looking 
back  to  that  time  it  is  now  hard  to  realize  that  our 
parents  were  in  the  prime  of  life. 

I  do  not  remember  what  neighbors  were  in  the 
caravan  of  wagons  that  trekked  over  the  muddy, 
slushy,  March  roads  in  that  far-past  moving  day. 
There  were  probably  three  or  four  of  them,  and  I 
think  grandfather's  market  wagon,  well  loaded,  was 
in  the  line.  We  had  a  herd  of  cows  and  heifers  to 
move,  and  as  we  could  not  load  them  onto  the  wagons 
they  had  to  march  on  the  hoof.  I  did  not  like  the  idea 
of  riding  in  a  loaded  wagon  at  a  very  slow  pace — it 
was  pretty  cold — and  so  I  volunteered  to  help  drive 
the  animals,  and  having  passed  the  examination,  I 
was  deemed  fitted  to  assume  that  responsible  posi- 
tion. The  road  was  deep  with  mud  from  the  March 
thaw.  It  was  a  novel  enterprise  for  the  cows  to  go 
travelling  abroad,  not  knowing  where  they  were 
going.  There  were  many  cross-roads,  and  at  first 
they  preferred  any  direction  to  the  one  we  planned 
for  them,  so  they  often  had  to  be  headed  off  and 
brought  back  to  the  true  line  of  travel.  We  did  not 
arrive  at  our  journey's  end  until  long  after  noon, 
though  we  started  pretty  early  in  the  morning.  It 
was  a  wearisome  experience.  The  animals,  as  well 
as  the  drivers,  were  tired  out  when  they  arrived  at 
the  ancient  village  of  Three  Tuns,  a  mile  from  their 
destination.  There  was  a  little,  old  school-house  of 
frame,  about  sixteen  feet  square,  in  the  village,  and 
as  we  passed  it  we  saw  the  school  in  session. 

Later  we  learned  that  the  school-master  was 
Amos  Lukens,  and  in  a  few  days  I  had  my  name 
entered  as  a  pupil  in  this  institution.  Amos  was 
rather  a  mild  gentleman. 

At  that  time  we  had  no  steel  pens,  nor  Water- 
A  49 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

man's  fountain  pens,  but  used  goose  quills  altogether 
in  writing.  It  was  the  duty  of  the  teacher  to  point 
the  pens  for  all  the  pupils,  and  it  was  interesting  to 
see  how  Amos  would  perform  this  operation.  He 
soon  made  a  pen  that  would  write  in  some  fashion. 
Excuse  the  digression. 

There  being  no  public  road  that  led  from  the 
village  to  our  farm,  we  had  to  go  by  a  private  lane, 
over  a  mile  long,  and  we  had  to  open  and  close  four 
gates  before  we  travelled  the  entire  length  of  the 
lane.  I  got  to  know  this  old  lane  pretty  well,  for 
near  its  north  end,  at  Three  Tuns,  I  built  North 
View  in  1887,  and  made  it  our  summer  home  for  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  century.  Later  in  this  book  you 
may  read  all  about  it. 

We  were  a  tired,  hungry,  and  mud-bespattered 
party  when  we  reached  our  destination.  When  one 
is  tired,  one  can  rest ;  when  one  is  hungry,  one  can 
eat ;  and  when  one  is  bespattered  with  mud  one  can 
let  the  mud  dry  and  then  brush  it  off.  All  these 
things  we  did. 

I  had  never  seen  the  new  place.  It  was  a  great 
novelty,  and  things  were  very  different  from  things  at 
the  place  we  left.  The  house  was  much  larger,  a  long 
house  of  the  Colonial  pattern.  It  might  have  seemed, 
in  comparison  with  our  old  home,  quite  large  enough 
to  house  the  family ;  but  within  two  weeks  father  began 
to  build  an  addition  to  it  at  the  western  end,  making  it 
altogether,  I  should  say,  about  eighty  feet  long. 

I  must  mention  here  that  the  baby  Albert  did 
not  help  us  very  much  in  the  moving,  since  his  mind 
was  centred  on  his  pet  cat.  He  did  not  think  of  much 
else  for  he  was  very  fond  of  the  cat  and  was  anxious 
lest  something  might  happen  to  it ;  but  nothing  did. 
Cats,  when  removed  from  their  accustomed  environ- 
ment, are  apt  to  go  back  home  if  the  opportunity  is 

50 


BOYHOOD  ON  THE  UPPER  DUBLIN  FARM 

offered.  And  the  little  fellow  knew  it.  He  would 
not  let  the  feline  out  of  his  thoughts  or  his  sight. 
Mother  came  to  the  rescue  and  had  pussy  shut  up 
in  a  cupboard,  underneath  the  china  closet,  and  there 
it  remained  incarcerated  for  a  time.  The  cat  did  not 
get  away  and  that  cupboard  was  ever  after  known  as 
the  "  cat-cupboard." 

I  think  all  of  us  who  had  not  visited  the  new 
place  before  were  surprised,  if  not  shocked,  to  find  that 
the  barn  was  within  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of  the 
house  and  that  the  pig-pen  was  between  the  house  and 
the  barn  at  about  an  equal  distance  from  each.  I  had 
never  seen  that  arrangement  before.  As  I  remember, 
father  had  the  pig-pen  set  back  to  its  proper  place 
without  any  unnecessary  delay. 

Since  the  country  we  came  from  was  hilly,  here, 
where  no  elevations  were  in  sight,  the  aspect  was  a 
strange  one,  but  we  soon  got  used  to  it.  Yet  we 
always  missed  the  coasting  hills  and  the  swimming 
hole  in  the  creek,  for  there  was  no  running  water  near 
our  new  home. 

The  time  had  now  come  when  we  children,  except 
the  two  youngest,  could  help  our  parents  about  the 
work,  Emma  in  the  house  and  James  and  Wilmer 
out  at  the  barn  and  in  the  fields.  My  boyhood  was 
spent  thus  without  interruption  until  the  winter  of 
1856-1857,  when  in  my  sixteenth  year  I  attended 
Foulke's  Quaker  Boarding  School. 

My  brother,  being  older  than  I  and  more  inclined 
to  indulge  in  hard  work,  assumed  the  greater  respon- 
sibility, and  I  think  must  have  been  of  far  greater 
help  to  father.  His  specialty  soon  came  to  be  the 
care  of  the  horses,  while  my  interest  became  centred 
in  the  care  of  the  cows.  I  never  knew  James  to  milk 
a  cow,  and  nobody  ever  knew  me  to  curry  a  horse. 

The  summer  following  our  removal  was  a  very 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

busy  one.  The  building  of  an  addition  to  the  house 
made  extra  work.  The  farm  contained  eighty-seven 
acres,  all  tillable  land  except  about  six  acres  of  fine 
timberland.  We  pursued  the  same  crop  rotation  as 
at  Warwick,  and  such  as  was  usual  on  all  farms  at 
that  period.  Corn  was  planted,  next  year  oats  were 
sown,  the  oats  stubble  was  ploughed  in  August  and 
then  again  a  second  time  in  September,  and  the 
ground  was  sown  to  wheat  and  timothy  for  hay.  In 
the  spring  clover  was  sown  on  the  wheat ;  next  June 
following  wheat,  we  cut  clover  for  hay,  and  the  next 
two  seasons  we  harvested  our  main  hay  crops ;  after  that 
the  timothy  sod  was  ploughed  down  again  for  corn. 
Then,  of  course,  a  portion  of  the  land  was  set  apart 
for  potatoes,  small  fruits,  and  vegetables.  Some- 
times a  portion  of  the  oats  stubble  was  planted  to 
potatoes  to  be  followed  in  the  fall  by  wheat,  the 
same  as  after  oats  stubble.  We  found  on  the  place 
an  excellent  orchard,  which  was  really  something 
unusual  in  that  neighborhood ;  but  the  orchard  was 
getting  old  and  father  at  once  set  out  a  new  one. 
Our  plan  was,  as  heretofore,  to  produce  nearly  every- 
thing we  needed  for  food  for  ourselves  and  for  our 
animals.  As  at  Warwick,  we  cured  our  beef  and 
mutton  and  pork,  and  made  our  soap,  scrapple,  bread, 
cottage  cheese,  candles  and  brooms.  We  made  apple 
butter  and  took  our  corn  and  wheat  to  mill  for  mush 
and  for  bread.  We  soon  had  a  flock  of  sheep  and, 
when  the  shearing  season  came  around,  we  had  quite 
a  crop  of  wool  which  was  sent  to  the  fulling  mill 
nearby  and  made  into  blankets.  The  sheep  supplied 
our  table  with  mutton  and  lamb  of  the  finest  quality. 
After  our  dried  beef  and  beef  tongues  were  cured 
(without  smoking),  they  were  hung  up  to  the  ceiling 
of  the  kitchen.  They  may  not  have  looked  pretty,  but 
they  answered  the  purpose  intended  very  well  indeed. 

52 


BOYHOOD  ON  THE  UPPER  DUBLIN  FARM 

One  of  the  cows  we  brought  from  Warwick  was 
named  "  Cyndy ;  "  she  was  old  at  the  time  we  moved, 
and  she  was  an  accomplished  kicker.  We  kept  her 
only  because  she  was  by  far  the  best  milker  we  had. 
When  fresh,  that  is  just  after  her  calves  were  taken 
away  from  her,  she  would  fill  a  bucket  full  and  more 
than  full ;  and,  if  we  didn't  watch  out,  she  would  kick 
it  over.  This  was  a  common  practice  that  seemed 
to  afford  her  great  pleasure.  She  had  not  only  talent 
in  that  direction,  but  real  genius;  her  aim  was  un- 
erring and  she  was  very  sjy.  She  never  kicked  an 
empty  bucket,  but  always  waited  until  the  vessel 
was  full,  and  jumped  away  after  fulfilling  her  pur- 
pose. We  tried  many  devices  for  rendering  her  de- 
signs nugatory,  and  succeeded  for  short  periods  of 
time ;  but  sooner  or  later  that  foot,  as  quick  as  a  flash 
of  lightning,  would  get  in  its  fatal  work.  One  way 
we  had  was  to  strap  up  one  of  her  fore-feet  so  that 
in  the  act  of  kicking  she  would  only  have  two  feet  to 
stand  on.  Thus  she  could  not  hit  her  mark  so  fairly, 
and  would  bungle  the  job.  It  was  her  idea  that  we 
were  not  treating  her  justly  in  strapping  up  her  foot. 
I  do  not  remember  how  long  she  lived  nor  how  many 
pails  of  milk  she  spilled,  but  I  am  sure  we  never 
turned  her  into  beef  while  we  had  a  supernumerary 
bull  to  take  to  the  block.  Having  no  horns,  the  poor  old 
lady  was  jostled  about  by  her  companions ;  the  only 
ray  of  joy  that  shone  into  her  life  came  at  those 
happy  moments  when  she  kicked  full  buckets  of  milk 
sprawling  all  over  the  yard  and  over  the  legs  of 
the  milkers. 

We  workers  around  the  stables  and  in  the  fields 
used  to  wear  hunting  shirts  to  keep  us  clean.  We 
did  this  always  when  we  milked.  This  was  a  gar- 
ment, I  believe,  that  did  not  differ  from  the  one  worn 
by  the  Continental  soldiers  in  the  Revolutionary 

53 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

army  at  the  beginning  of  the  war.  I  fancy  the  yeo- 
men, who  chased  the  redcoats  from  Concord  and 
Lexington  to  Boston  and  emptied  lead  into  them  at 
Bunker  Hill,  were  clad  in  hunting  shirts.  Why 
present-day  farmers  should  ever  allow  this  garment 
to  go  into  the  discard  I  am  unable  to  say. 

We  soon  found,  after  being  settled  in  our  new 
home,  that  the  water  which  was  pumped  from  the 
well  at  the  house  was  hard,  and  mother  could  not  use 
it  for  washing  the  clothes  or  even  the  dishes,  and  that  it 
was  not  fit  to  drink.  On  the  other  hand,  the  well  at 
the  barn  contained  excellent  water  for  both  washing 
and  drinking.  This  was  unfortunate.  For  years  it 
was  necessary  for  us  to  carry  water  from  the  barn 
to  the  house.  However,  it  came  to  be  a  habit,  and 
therefore  never  seemed  to  be  much  of  a  trial.  Why 
the  forefather  who  settled  the  place  originally  and 
erected  the  buildings,  did  not  put  the  house  near  the 
good  water  is  past  finding  out.  I  conceive  the  man 
who  sold  the  place  to  father  did  not  mention  water. 

It  was  a  fine  thing  to  have  a  six-acre  timber  lot 
on  the  place  when  we  came  to  build  our  new  barn 
and  other  buildings.  At  any  time  we  could  go  to  the 
woods,  cut  the  trees,  and  hew  them  into  lumber,  in- 
stead of  having  recourse  to  the  lumber-yard,  for 
we  had  no  lumber-yard  within  twenty  miles.  Logs 
were  sent  to  the  saw-mill,  nearby,  and  ripped  into 
boards  for  floors,  into  scantling  for  rafters,  joists, 
sills,  fence-rails,  and  posts.  We  even  got  our  shingles 
from  the  woodlot.  Of  course,  our  fire-wood  was 
ready  at  hand  at  all  times. 

Father  made  what  was  intended  to  be  a  perma- 
nent and  inflexible  rule,  when  the  children  were  small, 
for  them  to  go  to  bed  as  soon  after  supper  as  they 
should  become  so  sleepy  that  they  could  not  keep 
awake.  Emma  and  James  came  under  the  dominion 

54 


BOYHOOD  ON  THE  UPPER  DUBLIN  FARM 

of  this  law  and  yielded  to  it  with  good  grace;  but 
Wilmer,  the  third  child  and  the  present  writer,  proved 
to  be  such  a  sleepy-head  that  the  law  had  to  be  re- 
pealed. Father  soon  discovered  that  it  would  not 
operate  in  this  case.  I  remember  that,  when  I  was 
about  three-fourths  through  my  supper,  I  became  al- 
most too  sleepy  to  eat  any  more,  and  long  before  I 
finished  my  repast  the  land  of  nod  was  in  sight.  I 
recall  that  one  night  after  supper  I  dropped  down  on 
the  floor  in  a  warm  spot  not  far  from  the  stove  and 
fell  asleep.  Father  probably  was  reading  the  local 
paper  or  a  library  book  at  the  time.  It  so  happened 
that  a  piece  of  dried  beef  or  a  ham  which  had  been 
suspended  from  the  ceiling  had  broken  loose  from 
its  moorings  and  had  fallen  to  the  floor.  This  I  un- 
consciously drew  under  my  head  and  used  for  a  pil- 
low. The  incident  created  much  merriment  in  the 
family  at  the  time  and  long  afterwards. 

It  was  a  happy  circumstance,  not  only  through  my 
childhood,  but  all  through  my  adult  life,  that  I  have  been 
a  good  sleeper;  and  to  that  fact  I  ascribe  my  unusual 
good  health  and  my  ability  to  accomplish  my  work  so 
well.  I  have  always  aimed  to  get  eight  hours  of  sleep 
out  of  every  twenty- four,  and  I  never  found  that  an 
hour  more  would  do  me  any  serious  harm. 

We  had  a  good  gun  handy  in  order  to  shoot  any 
animal  whose  behavior  invited  summary  treatment. 
Sometimes  I  would  go  out  back  of  the  wood-shed  to 
shoot  a  flying  crow,  of  which  at  certain  seasons  we 
had  many.  I  never  hit  one,  nor  was  I  ever  able  to 
hit  an  eagle  that  used  to  come  and  light  in  a  tall 
hickory  tree  in  a  neighbor's  woods.  Just  at  the  time 
I  got  a  bead  on  him,  and  was  about  to  bring  him 
down  with  certainty,  he  would  take  flight.  I  imagine 
he  felt  amazed  at  my  freshness  and  amused  at  my 
disappointment.  We  boys  were  not  born  gunners. 

55 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

We  hardly  ever  went  to  the  woods  to  shoot  squirrels, 
and  when  we  did,  we  came  home  without  any,  at  least 
I  did.  Once  in  the  fall  I  went  rabbit  hunting  and 
actually  shot  a  rabbit.  I  pitied  the  poor  thing  so  that 
I  came  home  and  never  again  went  gunning.  When 
quite  a  little  fellow  I  shot  a  robin,  and  uncle  James 
Rutter  so  chided  me  for  the  cruel  act  that  I  was 
deeply  grieved. 

We  never  had  but  one  dog  that  I  remember.  He 
was  rather  a  large  specimen,  a  mongrel,  with  bull 
proclivities.  We  named  him  Grant,  so  it  must  have 
been  in  General  Grant's  time,  during  the  early  years 
of  the  Civil  War.  He  had  a  fine  appetite  and  prob- 
ably ate  more  fried  mush  than  any  two  of  the  hired 
men.  One  day  mother  made  a  remark  at  the  table  that 
created  a  good  deal  of  merriment  in  the  family  and 
which  has  been  often  quoted  and  long  remembered. 
We  had  guests  at  the  table,  and  mother,  in  urging 
them  to  have  more  of  the  fried  mush  added,  "  Grant 
won't  eat  it."  It  is  a  saying  in  the  family  to  this  day, 
"  Do  have  some  more,  Grant  won't  eat  it." 

I  recall  another  amusing  incident  that  came  to  be 
often  told  visitors.  It  occurred  while  we  were  still 
at  Warwick,  and  the  joke  was  on  little  sister  Mary 
Anna.  She  must  hate  been  about  the  age  of  three  at 
the  time.  In  some  way  she  had  come  into  posses- 
sion of  a  cake  acquired  by  direct  action,  and  she  was 
sitting  on  the  door-step  eating  it.  She  knew  she  was 
breaking  the  rules,  and  she  was  afraid  her  fault 
might  be  discovered;  so  when  aunt  Sibby  came 
near  her  without  discovering  what  she  was  doing, 
the  tot  gave  herself  away  when  she  said,  "  Now  yet 
May  Anna  ayone  in  peace."  Her  conscience  had 
worked  to  her  disadvantage,  but  it  would  be  just  like 
aunt  Sibby  to  forgive  her  and  give  her  a  larger 
piece  of  cake. 

56 


BOYHOOD  ON  THE  UPPER  DUBLIN  FARM 

We  were  fortunate  in  having  at  the  village  an 
excellent  library,  well  filled  with  standard  books 
and  devoid  of  the  trashy  fiction  now  so  much  in  vogue. 
Father  was  one  of  the  managers,  and  was  appointed 
on  the  committee  to  buy  new  books.  Many  an  hour 
I  spent  there  reading,  especially  on  rainy  days,  when 
it  was  possible  to  get  away  from  work  on  the  farm 
without  shirking.  We  often  had  two  or  three  books 
out  at  one  time.  It  was  there  I  became  acquainted 
with  Downing's  "  Landscape  Gardening "  and 
Scott's  instructive  treatise  on  the  subject.  Not  only 
did  I  become  acquainted  with  the  contents  of  these 
books  and  enthused  over  their  contents,  but  all  my 
life  since  the  landscape  art  has  had  a  devotee  in  me. 
Twenty-five  years  later  I  bought  a  farm  close  by,  on 
which,  within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  library,  I 
built  a  summer  home,  and  here  I  applied  the  art 
taught  by  Downing  and  Scott  in  the  embellishment 
of  the  home  acres.  Later,  I  will  tell  about  our 
North  View  home. 

It  was  difficult  in  the  fifties,  as  it  is  now,  to  pro- 
cure satisfactory  help  on  the  farm,  and  even  more  so  in 
the  house.  Sometimes  we  had  a  pretty  good  Irishman 
who  would  stay  the  season  through.  Sometimes  we 
engaged  a  native  who  would  work  when  not  on  a 
spree.  Fortunately,  we  had  a  stand-by  named  Sam 
Barrel,  who  was  a  good,  steady  worker,  though  pos- 
sessed of  much  less  wit  than  the  law  allows.  He 
passed  among  those  who  came  to  know  him  as  quite 
an  intelligent  person.  He  would  engage  the  rest  of 
us  in  conversation,  but  he,  himself,  said  scarcely 
anything.  He  had  enough  sense  to  say  little,  look 
wise,  and  smile  at  what  others  said.  I  learned  a 
lesson  from  Sam  that  I  have  never  forgotten — say 
little,  smile  as  if  you  understood,  look  wise,  and  you 
will  pass  as  a  personage  with  far  more  brains  than 

57 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

otherwise  you  would.  The  household  help  at  times 
was  "  something  fierce ;  "  often  mother  had  none  at 
all,  and  she  was  happiest  then.  It  was  fortunate 
that  she  had  two  helpful  daughters  to  lift  some  of  the 
burdens  from  her  shoulders.  Farmers'  wives  now 
complain,  and  justly,  that  they  can  not  obtain  satis- 
factory help,  but  I  do  not  believe  the  situation  is 
worse  than  it  was  in  the  fifties. 

Father  was  a  forward-looking  man.  If  a  new 
farm  implement  came  out,  he  was  first  in  the  neigh- 
borhood to  obtain  one.  He  bought  the  first  grain 
reaper  that  was  seen  in  the  township — it  was  a 
Manny.  It  cut  the  grain  but  did  not  bind  it.  The 
machine  was  heavy  and  lumbering,  and  it  was 
awfully  hard  work  to  bock  off  the  grain,  especially 
if  the  straw  was  heavy  and  tangled.  The  strain  of 
that  work  pretty  nearly  had  the  effect  of  pulling  out 
my  liver  pins ;  and  I  was  not  encouraged  by  this  ex- 
perience to  remain  on  the  farm.  Another  implement 
father  bought  to  save  labor  was  the  Pennock  wheat 
drill.  This  was  a  success  in  every  way.  Not  only 
did  we  drill  all  our  own  wheat  and  rye,  but  that  of 
many  of  the  neighbors  near  and  far.  Often  I  went 
out  with  the  drill  and  earned  for  father  from  eight 
to  ten  dollars  a  day.  Sometimes  father  would  go,  some- 
times James.  We  made  enough  the  first  season  to  pay 
for  the  drill,  and  the  machine  at  the  end  of  the  season 
was  as  good  as  new,  surely  a  profitable  investment. 

It  was  not  often  that  my  father  committed  an 
error  of  judgment,  but  in  one  instance  I  recall  he  fell 
short.  He  was  a  great  reader,  always  had  books  at 
hand,  several  county  weeklies,  the  American  Agri- 
culturist, the  Pennsylvania  Freeman,  and  the  Olive 
Branch,  a  temperance  paper,  the  forerunner  of  the 
Norristourn  Republican,  which,  in  1862,  Howard  M. 

58 


MY  FATHER  AND  MOTHER  AFTER  COMING  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 


BOYHOOD  ON  THE  UPPER  DUBLIN  FARM 

Jenkins  and  I  bought  and  published.  This  once,  with 
all  his  equipment  and  practical  knowledge,  father  got 
left  far  behind,  and  I  wonder  yet  how  it  happened. 
We  had  no  lovely  spring-house  as  at  Warwick,  but 
instead  of  it,  a  milk-vault,  quite  close  to  the  house. 
This  was  a  deep  pit  in  the  ground,  about  twelve  feet 
across.  Partitioned  off  on  the  side  was  a  similar 
chamber  for  ice.  We  had  no  difficulty  in  keeping 
fresh  milk,  cream,  butter,  meats,  and  other  foods  as 
long  as  the  ice  held  out,  and  this  was  usually  until 
we  harvested  another  crop. 

Well,  here  is  the  story  of  father's  default.  A 
small,  black-and-white,  slow-moving  animal  of  mal- 
odorous reputation,  was  discovered  in  the  vault  down 
among  the  milk  pans  and  butter  crocks.  It  had  been 
strolling  around  and,  the  door  being  open,  down  the 
steps  it  made  its  way.  I  cannot  believe  it  had  any 
evil  intentions,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that,  after  get- 
ting a  good  drink  of  milk  and  sampling  other  delica- 
cies, it  would  have  departed  the  way  it  came.  What 
happened  was  this :  my  father  got  his  gun  and  shot 
the  creature  right  down  in  mother's  clean  and  sweet- 
scented  vault.  I  leave  the  rest  to  the  imagination  of 
the  reader,  except  to  say  that  everything  in  the  way 
of  food  that  came  out  of  that  storage-vault  of  tasty 
things  had  a  new  and  distinct  odor  and  flavor  all  the 
remainder  of  the  year  and  well  into  the  next. 

There  was  hard  work  to  do  on  Upper  Dublin 
farm,  some  pleasant,  some  otherwise.  Threshing 
was  a  job  I  hated  beyond  any  other  kind  of  work  be- 
cause of  the  ill  effect  of  the  dust  on  my  respiratory 
organs.  I  always  had  a  cold  after  a  few  days  of 
threshing.  The  work  did  not  agree  with  me,  and  I 
was  glad  to  be  freed  from  it. 

Butchering  the  hogs  on  our  farm,  while  I  was  in 
59 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

active  duty  there,  was  an  important  annual  event 
which  usually  took  place  in  December.  We  had  at 
that  time  three  or  four  hogs  to  be  turned  into  the 
family  provender  for  the  ensuing  year.  The  program 
was  always  the  same.  On  the  afternoon  before,  the 
stage  was  set  for  a  great  fire  in  the  open,  consisting 
of  large  and  small  blocks  of  wood,  with  several  bar- 
row loads  of  stone  thrown  in  among  the  blocks  of 
wood.  Early  next  morning  a  fire  was  kindled,  the 
object  being  to  heat  the  stones  that  were  in  turn  to 
heat  the  water  for  scalding  the  hogs  after  life  had 
departed  from  them.  In  the  wagon-house  a  sled 
was  placed,  covered  with  planks  or  old  doors  for  the 
operators  to  stand  on,  and  a  leaning  hogshead  was 
placed  alongside  to  hold  the  water  heated  by  the 
stones.  The  hogs  were  brought  out  one  at  a  time 
and  killed ;  then  they  were  brought  to  the  sled  and 
plunged  into  the  scalding  water,  whereupon  all  the 
men  fell  to  work  and  scraped  off  the  bristles  and  hair. 

When  this  was  completed,  the  hogs  were  hung 
up,  dressed,  and  left  hanging  until  they  cooled  off. 
Several  hours  were  required  to  dress,  hang  up,  and 
disembowel  four  hogs.  When  well  cooled,  the  hogs 
were  ready  to  be  carried  to  the  house,  carved  up  into 
hams,  shoulders,  and  chops,  or  made  into  sausage 
and  scrapple.  I  saw  nothing  of  the  actual  killing, 
for  it  was  a  part  that  I  shrank  from,  and  I  never  had 
any  hand  in  it.  Several  days  were  required  to  finish 
the  butchering,  and  it  kept  us  all  busy. 

I  may  here  tell  of  my  experience  in  hauling  hay 
to  the  Philadelphia  market.  Someone  would  get  up 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  feed  the  team, 
the  hay  having  been  loaded  the  afternoon  before. 
By  the  time  the  horses  had  eaten,  the  driver  would 
be  ready  to  start.  It  required  about  six  hours  to 

60 


BOYHOOD  ON  THE  UPPER  DUBLIN  FARM 

reach  the  hay  market  at  Sixth  and  Oxford  Streets. 
There  the  horses  were  fed  and  the  driver  got  his 
dinner  and  then  repaired  to  the  sheds  to  await  a  pur- 
chaser for  his  hay.  It  was  my  experience  that  we 
had  not  to  wait  long  for  a  buyer. 

The  occasion  that  I  particularly  remember  is  one 
on  which  I  sold  the  hay  to  a  man  who  lived  below 
Christian  Street.  It  was  a  long  haul  after  having 
just  finished  one  that  required  six  hours  to  accom- 
plish, but  the  price  was  satisfactory,  rather  more 
than  that  for  which  the  hay  could  have  been  sold  if 
delivered  to  a  nearer  point.  That  day  I  drove  the 
team  a  distance  of  thirty-five  miles,  requiring  fifteen 
hours  for  the  performance.  In  going  home,  I  faced 
a  northwest  winter  breeze  without  a  wind  shield  and 
without  springs  or  shock  absorbers  under  the 
wagon.  When  I  reached  home  in  the  evening,  I  was 
tired  out  and  the  horses  were  almost  ready  to  drop 
with  fatigue.  In  the  language  of  to-day  this  trip  to 
sell  hay  would  be  called  "  going  some,"  but  farmers' 
boys  were  equal  to  almost  any  kind  of  honest  job. 
They  were  ready  then,  and  they  are  ready  now. 

When  I  was  about  fifteen,  we  started  a  literary 
society  in  Upper  Dublin  and  kept  it  up  with  un- 
flagging interest  as  long  as  I  remained  on  the  farm. 
It  met  weekly  on  Saturday  afternoons,  at  the  homes 
of  the  members.  We  published  an  organ  which  we 
called  "  The  Gleaner,"  and  which  had  many  con- 
tributors and  never  lacked  interest.  It  was  for  the 
pages  of  "  The  Gleaner  "  that  I  first  began  to  write. 
This  was  an  experience  of  great  value  to  me  and  may 
have  been  a  contributory  cause,  along  with  the  ad- 
jacent library  and  my  dislike  of  threshing,  of  my 
leaving  the  farm  and  entering  upon  a  journalistic 
career.  The  society  afforded  its  members  oppor- 

61 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

tunity  to  cultivate  their  talents  for  writing  and 
speaking,  and  encouraged  social  intercourse  that  was 
of  great  benefit.  On  April  nineteenth,  1862,  the  follow- 
ing resolution  was  entered  in  the  minute  book :  "  To 
meet  again  at  the  call  of  the  executive  committee." 
The  literary  society  never  met  again,  but  the  girls 
formed  a  sewing  circle  to  make  garments  for  the 
boys  in  blue,  and  some  of  the  boys  shouldered  guns 
and  knapsacks  and  marched  South.  The  Civil  War 
was  on. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
SCHOOL  DAYS 

I  WENT  with  great  regularity  to  the  public  school 
at  Three  Tuns  until  I  was  fifteen  years  of  age.  We 
children  never  missed  a  day,  that  was  the  rule  of  the 
house.  In  the  main  we  had  good  teachers — some- 
times a  female,  at  other  times  a  stray  male  came  our 
way  and  was  appointed  master  of  the  school.  One 
of  the  latter  was  an  Irishman  by  the  name  of  O'Keefe, 
and  as  far  as  I  could  tell  he  was  a  good  scholar.  I 
am  sure  he  thought  he  was.  I  studied  Latin  under 
his  tutelage  and  made  some  progress.  Much  atten- 
tion was  given  in  those  days  to  mental  arithmetic, 
but  the  most  interesting  study  at  this  school,  as  I 
remember,  and  the  study  in  which  I  was  an  apt 
scholar,  was  corner-ball  or  tickly  over.  I  was  always 
exceedingly  fond  of  play  and  very  moderately  so  of 
study,  though  I  was  a  good  speller  and  generally 
kept  up  head. 

Close  by  the  school  was  a  blacksmith's  shop,  run 
by  Jake  Lenhart,  a  short  man,  very  jolly,  very  active, 
a  great  jumper,  and  a  loud  laugher.  He  liked  to 
come  out  occasionally  for  a  game  of  corner-ball,  at 
which  time  things  were  lively.  We  socked  him  hard. 

My  attendance  at  this  school  terminated  in  the 
summer  of  1855,  and  in  the  fall  of  that  year  I  entered 
my  name  upon  the  list  of  pupils  at  Foulke's  Board- 
ing School,  in  Gwynedd,  with  Hugh  Foulke  as  Head 
Master.  It  was  a  Quaker  school,  founded  many 
years  before  by  Joseph  Foulke,  a  preacher  and  the 
grandfather  of  the  now  distinguished  William  Dud- 
ley Foulke,  of  Richmond,  Indiana.  Hugh  was  a 

63 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

nephew  of  Joseph ;  he  was  brought  up  at  the  plough 
handles  before  he  engaged  in  teaching.  A  story  is 
told  of  him  that  one  day  he  was  leading  a  pair  of 
oxen  to  the  harrow,  walking  at  their  side.  He  held 
a  book  in  his  hand  which  he  was  reading.  The  oxen 
took  advantage  of  that  fact  and  stopped  while  Hugh 
walked  on  to  the  far  end  of  the  field  before  he  discov- 
ered the  oxen  were  resting  at  his  expense. 

There  was  room  at  the  school  for  about  thirty 
students,  and  it  was  full  of  boys,  mostly  Quakers. 
Howard  M.  Jenkins,  who  later  married  my  sister 
Mary  Anna,  and  who  became  my  partner  in  the  pub- 
lishing business  at  Norristown  and  Wilmington,  was 
one.  Through  acquaintances  made  at  this  school  I 
came  to  know  and  married  Anna  Allen.  Had  I  gone 
to  Yale  or  Princeton  or  Harvard,  instead  of  this 
school,  I  fear  to  think  what  might  not  have  happened. 
Hugh  Foulke  was  a  scholar  and  tried  hard  to  imbue 
his  students  with  ambition  for  scholarship.  The 
house  we  were  in  was  built  for  a  dwelling  house  and 
was  too  small  to  accommodate  thirty  pupils.  We 
were  crowded,  especially  at  night,  when  most  of  us 
slept  in  one  long  garret  room  where,  while  we  were 
not  asleep,  we  were  cutting  up,  engaging  in  pillow 
fights  and  other  gymnastics  under  the  rafters ;  but  in  all 
these  fights  I  never  knew  a  boy  to  get  killed  or 
maimed.  We  had  to  watch  out  lest  Hugh  should 
discover  what  we  were  at  and  give  us  a  lecture  on 
good  behavior  from  the  bottom  of  the  stairs.  In 
school  we  read  Young's  "  Night  Thoughts "  and 
Cooper's  "  Task,"  which  we  also  parsed.  Hugh 
knew  these  books  by  heart  and  could  direct  our 
lessons  with  his  eyes  shut. 

There  were  a  number  of  pretty  bright  boys 
among  these  students,  some  of  whom  later  became 
prominent  in  business  and  social  life  in  their  neigh- 

64 


HOWARD  M.  JENKINS  AND  I  IN   DEBATE 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

borhoods.  I  cannot  fail  to  remember  that  those  with 
the  brightest  minds  for  study  were,  as  a  rule,  not  so 
successful  in  business  as  the  duller  ones.  I  think  the 
one  boy  who  could  not  learn  anything  at  all  from 
Hugh's  teachings  won  distinction  as  a  business  man 
and  became  wealthy,  whereas  the  brighter  fellows 
were  not  so  successful. 

We  were  obliged  to  get  up  early  in  the  morning 
before  daylight  and  go  to  the  pump  and  wash  our 
hands  in  the  hardest  and  coldest  water  I  think  I  have 
ever  known.  There  was  no  mother  about  to  inspect 
our  hands  after  washing,  and  I  am  sure  they  would 
not  have  passed  muster.  The  water  did  not  remove 
the  dirt,  but  washed  it  in.  After  washing  we  flooded 
into  the  breakfast-room  and  all  sat  down  at  a  long 
table.  It  was  not  yet  light  when  we  assembled  there. 
Our  food  was  plain  but  there  was  enough  of  it,  such 
as  it  was,  and  we  enjoyed  it  (having  good  appetites), 
although  at  times  we  did  not  like  the  molasses. 

Our  Latin  class,  in  the  absence  of  Hugh,  was  con- 
ducted by  a  fine  lady  teacher,  who  was  not  very  well 
versed  in  the  Latin  language.  On  one  occasion  a 
mischievous  member  of  our  class  inserted  a  so-called 
original  Latin  sentence  to  be  translated  to  the  effect 
that  "  Sugar  is  sweet,  but  molasses  is  not  always." 
We  boys  translated  it  in  that  way.  At  that  time  we 
were  having  some  poor  molasses  for  our  mush  and 
this  is  the  way  we  demonstrated  our  displeasure. 
It  was  silly,  of  course,  but  we  got  some  fun  out  of  it. 
We  made  long  hours.  After  supper  we  studied  the 
next  day's  lessons  until  nine  o'clock  when,  after  yell- 
ing a  bit,  we  hied  away  to  our  bunks  in  the  garret. 

One  of  the  important  parts  in  our  curriculum  was 
the  writing  and  delivery  of  compositions.  This  was 
a  weekly  performance.  Sometimes  neighbors  were 
invited  in  to  hear  our  pretentious  essays  read.  I 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

liked  this  exercise  quite  well,  and  always  had  some- 
thing to  read.  Howard  M.  Jenkins  had  ready  ability 
as  a  writer,  and  Dan  Moore  was  not  far  behind  him. 
John  Parry  was  in  the  front  rank  as  a  poet.  Apart 
from  these  three,  out  of  the  thirty  pupils,  none  shone 
with  any  brilliancy  as  writers. 

Politics  at  that  period  was  sizzling  over  the  slav- 
ery question,  and  the  boys  caught  the  prevailing 
fever.  Fremont  had  just  been  defeated  for  the  presi- 
dency by  James  Buchanan.  I  had  the  fever  myself, 
and  wrote  a  composition  defending  Garrison  and 
slamming  the  defenders  of  slavery.  By  this  I  got 
the  school  into  a  ferment,  and,  when  the  meeting 
was  over  at  which  my  composition  was  read,  some 
apologists  for  Daniel  Webster  (who  had  backslided 
on  the  subject  of  the  peculiar  institution  of  the  South, 
though  he  had  formerly  been  an  anti-slavery  man) 
proposed  that  we  proceed  to  the  campus.  The  word 
went  around,  "  Let's  ride  the  Abolitionist  on  a  rail," 
and  sure  enough,  that  design  was  carried  out.  As 
the  rail  was  a  comfortable  one  and  as  I  took  the 
experience  good-naturedly,  I  had  rather  an  enjoy- 
able time.  I  was  not  offended,  but  rather  happy  in 
suffering  martyrdom  for  the  cause  I  espoused.  I 
wanted  the  boys  to  keep  on.  I  grabbed  a  stalwart 
fellow  by  his  head  and  hair,  and  told  him  to  keep  it. 
up ;  they  all  got  tired  before  I  did. 

At  another  time  I  produced  an  original  poem, 
quite  a  long  one.  I  did  not  fail  to  appreciate  the 
fact  that  it  was  a  pretty  poor  one,  and  I  soon  found 
out  that  such  was  the  general  verdict.  Indeed,  it  was 
really  so  bad  that,  after  school  was  out,  the  boys 
made  an  effort  to  get  possession  of  the  document, 
and  so  chased  me  all  around  the  school  grounds  by 
moonlight,  got  hold  of  it  and  in  the  scramble  not 
only  tore  the  poem  to  pieces,  but  my  vest  right  down 

66 


INTERIOR  OF  UPPER  DUBLIN    MEETING  HOUSE  WHERE  I 
ATTENDED  AS  A  BOY 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

the  back.  I  never  saw  that  poem  again  and  never 
wrote  another. 

In  the  spring  I  was  back  again  on  the  farm  and 
did  my  share  of  the  work  until  fall,  when  I  entered 
as  a  student  at  Freeland  Seminary,  now  Ursinus 
College.  The  winter  of  1857-1858  was  spent  there. 
It  was  a  good  school;  the  principal,  the  Reverend 
Henry  A.  Hunsicker,  was  a  fine  gentleman,  and  his 
instructors  were  well  qualified  for  their  duties. 

I  have  but  few  reminiscences  to  recall  of  the  hap- 
penings at  Freeland  Seminary  during  the  winter  I 
spent  within  its  academic  shades.  I  remember  that 
our  principal  would  sometimes  give  a  lecture  in- 
tended to  establish,  in  the  minds  of  the  boys  in  his 
charge,  right  principles  in  the  conduct  of  life.  I  re- 
call especially  one  on  the  subject  of  sex  control  and 
sex  morals  which  made  a  lasting  impression  on  my 
mind.  I  fancy  that  there  are  few  boys  in  their  teens 
who  do  not  need  plain  and  wise  talks  on  the  subject 
by  someone  in  whom  they  have  confidence  as  a  moral 
teacher.  They  hardly  ever  get  such  a  talk  at  school 
and  rarely  at  home,  and  so  my  sincere  thanks  are  due 
to  the  Reverend  Hunsicker  for  what  he  told  us  on 
the  occasion  mentioned. 

Corner-ball  was  a  very  popular  game  at  that 
period,  and  we  had  a  strong  team  of  spry  and  athletic 
young  fellows  who  always  were  ready  to  give  and 
accept  challenges  from  outside.  Several  Saturday 
afternoons  we  went  down  to  Evansburg  for  a  match 
and  always  came  away  victorious. 

In  that  game  four  corners  in  a  square  were  marked 
out  about  twenty  feet  apart.  We  tossed  up  as  to  the  team 
which  was  to  take  the  corners  first.  The  other  team 
had  to  go  inside.  The  ball  was  passed  from  corner 
to  corner  until  things  got  hot,  and  without  ado  some 
fellow  was  socked — that  is,  hit  by  the  ball — unless 

67 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

he  was  able  to  dodge  it.  If  he  was  not  hit  the 
thrower  was  out  of  the  game.  If  he  was  hit,  all  the 
corner  fellows  ran  away  to  avoid  being  in  turn 
struck  by  a  ball  thrown  by  an  inside  player  as  he 
ran.  If  hit,  he  was  out ;  if  not  hit,  the  inside  player 
was  out.  The  game  went  on  until  the  players  of  one 
side  or  the  other  were  all  side-tracked.  When  all 
were  put  out  on  one  side  the  match  was  lost.  Some 
of  our  boys  were  great  hitters ;  they  could  throw  a 
ball  so  swiftly  and  so  true  that  it  did  not  often  miss 
its  mark.  On  the  other  hand,  there  were  some 
accomplished  dodgers  who  jumped  in  such  unex- 
pected, cork-screw  ways  that  they  could  scarcely 
ever  be  hit.  It  was  hard  to  see  just  how  they  did  it. 
As  for  me,  I  was  a  fairly  good  hitter  and  also  a 
pretty  artful,  accomplished  dodger.  That  winter  I 
enjoyed  corner-ball  more  than  I  did  any  of  my  studies. 

On  Saturday  afternoons  when  the  Perkiomen 
creek  was  shut  in  by  ice  strong  enough  to  skate  on, 
and  sometimes  when  it  was  not,  we  would  all  go 
down  to  engage  in  that  exhilarating  sport.  In  the 
whole  school  of  over  one  hundred  boys,  there  was 
but  one  who  could  skate  with  skill  and  grace.  Most 
of  us  were  more  or  less  clumsy.  I  am  told  that  the 
talent  for  skating  depends  on  the  ear  as  in  music. 
If  a  non-musical  person  tries  to  skate  he  can  be  sure 
he  never  can  become  a  first-class  skater.  This  may 
be  the  reason  I  am  such  a  dub  on  skates,  as  my  ear 
for  music  is  so  inconceivably  bad  that,  if  I  should 
try  to  get  a  tune  out  of  a  Victrola,  the  instrument 
would  not  perform  until  I  left  the  room. 

I  found  a  congenial  boy  in  the  school  about  my 
age  whose  name  was  Daniel  Webster  McCurdy.  He 
was  an  ambitious  youth  and  he  had  considerable 
talent.  I  recall  the  performance  of  the  Christmas 
jubilee,  given  by  the  students  of  the  Phi  Beta  Pi  fra- 

68 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

ternity,  which  was  reported  in  a  Norristown  paper, 
and  in  which  McCurdy  figured  among  the  stars  of 
the  occasion.  He  took  for  his  subject  "  The  Political 
Events  of  the  Day."  The  fact  that  he  was  named 
for  the  great  Daniel  seemed  to  justify  his  selection 
of  this  topic.  It  was  said  in  the  newspaper  report 
that  his  speech  "  showed  a  clearness  of  diction  and 
logic  which  could  but  be  expected  from  so  pure  a 
mind."  And  the  report  said  of  the  address  of  Wilmer 
Atkinson  on  the  same  occasion,  "  In  our  opinion,  it 
surpassed  anything  that  we  could  have  looked  for 
from  one  of  his  age.  We  predict  for  him  a  seat  in  our 
National  Congress  in  futurum." 

When  the  paper  containing  these  panegyrics 
reached  the  seminary,  there  was  much  excitement 
and  a  great  desire  to  learn  who  it  was  that  submitted 
the  report  for  publication.  The  article  was  signed 
"  S.  N.  X."  In  a  few  days  another  Norristown  paper 
was  received  containing  a  more  lurid  report  than  the 
first.  It  was  signed  "  Quill,"  and  the  report  said 
of  McCurdy's  subject  that  "  It  was  a  severe  but 
truthful  philippic  on  the  politics  of  America.  The 
author  has  all  of  the  characteristics  of  the  true  orator, 
and  is  well  acquainted  with  the  political  history  of 
the  country."  It  went  on  with  the  statement  that 
"  Wilmer  Atkinson's  performance  scarcely  needs 
comment.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  thundering  tones 
of  the  youthful  orator  created  an  impression  upon 
the  minds  of  the  assemblage  that  could  not  soon  be 
effaced."  The  next  week  one  of  the  papers  appeared 
with  a  criticism  of  the  above  reports  in  which  it  was 
stated  that  "  The  cat  was  out  of  the  bag,"  that  both 
reports  of  the  jubilee  were  concocted  by  D.  W. 
McCurdy  and  Wilmer  Atkinson,  each  writing  the 
other's  panegyric.  The  two  kiddies  did  not  deny  the 
soft  impeachment  because  they  could  not,  and  so 

69 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

they  let  the  matter  drop.  As  one  looks  back  at  the 
incident  from  this  distance  of  time,  it  does  not  seem 
to  be  a  very  creditable  performance  on  the  part  of 
McCurdy  and  Atkinson,  but  they  had  lots  of  fun 
out  of  it. 

Every  week  during  the  winter  we  wrote  composi- 
tions which  we  read  before  the  whole  school.  I 
wrote  and  delivered  a  long  one  which  must  have 
tired  my  audience  and  put  many  of  them  to  sleep. 
It  was  entitled  "  Practicability  of  Disunion,"  which 
in  my  note-book  is  said  to  have  been  "  Delivered  in 
Freeland  Hall  on  the  22nd  of  December,  1857,  before 
the  elite  of  Upper  Providence,  the  flower  of  Free- 
land,  and  the  ladies  of  Perkiomen  Female  College." 
I  also  mistreated  these  topics :  "  The  Character  of 
Washington,"  "  A  Politician,"  "  The  Literary  Men 
of  America,"  and  "  Stephen  A.  Douglas."  There  was 
one  entitled  "  The  Patriot's  Address  to  the  Star- 
Spangled  Banner,"  and  another,  "  Trip  to  the  Old 
World."  The  writer  purported  to  have  stood  on  the 
deck  of  a  proud,  ocean  steamer,  ready  at  the  signal 
of  the  commander  to  depart  for  the  Old  World.  He 
said  that  he  had  left  his  home  and  its  fond  associa- 
tions that  centre  around  it  to  journey  awhile  among 
monuments  of  grandeur  to  be  seen  on  the  continent 
of  Europe.  He  bathed  his  spirit  with  the  sight  of 
classic  Italy,  of  St.  Peter's,  the  Coliseum,  of  mighty 
Rome  and  her  black-eyed  beauties,  and  so  on  and  on. 
It  ended  eloquently  as  follows:  "As  I  approached 
the  shore  on  my  return,  I  reached  out  to  my  relatives 
and  friends  whom  I  saw  at  the  landing.  But  the 
boat  was  not  fastened;  it  had  floated  away  perhaps 
six  feet.  I  made  a  spring  for  the  shore.  I  did  not 
reach  it  and  I  fell — out  of  bed."  There  was  an  essay 
on  "  Empress  Eugenie,"  another  on  "  Love,"  and  one 
on  "  Charlotte  Corday."  There  was  a  dialogue  on 

70 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

"  A  Law  Case."     All  this  comes  back  fresh  in  my 
memory  over  a  period  of  sixty-three  years. 

I  think  it  was  on  New  Year's  Day  that  I  accepted 
an  invitation  to  visit  the  home  of  one  of  my  chums, 
Preston  by  name,  who  lived  in  Lower  Merion.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  snow  and  it  was  very  cold. 
Rev.  Stephen  H.  Tyng,  a  distinguished  Episcopal 
clergyman,  lived  in  the  neighborhood.  As  he  was 
famous  I  had  a  desire  to  call  on  him,  and  this  in 
company  with  my  friend  I  did.  Though  we  were 
entire  strangers  to  him,  he  received  us  with  great 
courtesy  and  kindness.  We  found  him  sitting  in  his 
library  before  a  fire  blazing  on  the  hearth.  I  was 
delighted  with  the  reverend  gentleman,  and  it  was 
then  and  there  that  I  first  came  to  realize  the  fascina- 
tion of  an  open  fire.  The  deep  impression  it  made  on 
my  mind  lingers  yet.  In  truth,  then  and  there,  I 
inwardly  resolved  that  some  day  I  would  have  in 
my  home  a  fire  on  the  hearth  such  as  warmed  my 
friend  and  myself  on  that  bleak  winter  night  long 
ago.  My  resolution  has  been  fulfilled,  and  I  have 
never  owned  a  house  in  which  provision  was  not 
made  for  such  a  fire.  Now,  as  I  write,  I  hear  the 
crackling  of  the  wood  on  our  hob-grate  across  the 
room  from  where  I  sit.  Doctor  Tyng  I  met  later  on 
a  voyage  to  Europe ;  he  has  long  been  dead. 

I  TRY  MY  HAND  AT  TEACHING 

On  the  advent  of  summer,  school  ceased  and  I 
went  home  to  assist  father  on  the  farm.  I  so  con- 
tinued until  late  fall,  1859,  when  I  engaged  in  teaching, 
my  school  being  in  Warwick,  only  a  few  miles  from 
our  old  home.  I  can  recall  but  one  incident  of 
sufficient  importance  to  be  recorded  here.  I  remem- 
ber attending  a  debate  some  time  that  winter  in 
which  John  Brown's  raid  was  the  subject  for  discus- 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

sion.  Then  and  there  we  decided  whether  the  raid 
was  justified  or  not,  what  should  be  done  with 
Brown,  and  also  we  decided  that  the  raid  was  the 
forerunner  of  the  Civil  War.  Abraham  Lincoln  was 
not  elected  until  1860,  and  the  war  began  in  April, 
1861,  by  the  firing  upon  Fort  Sumpter.  In  the 
spring  of  1860  I  returned  to  the  farm  and  remained 
there  until  August,  1862,  when  with  Howard  M.  Jen- 
kins I  entered  the  publishing  business  at  Norris- 
town.  Then,  a  fortnight  after  our  arrival  at  Norris- 
town,  the  Confederate  army  crossed  the  Potomac, 
marched  into  Maryland  and  threatened  Pennsyl- 
vania. My  partner  and  I  could  not  stand  for  that, 
so  we  quit  the  printing  office,  shouldered  our  guns 
and  knapsacks,  and  marched  south  to  meet  the 
threatened  invasion.  I  will  defer  to  a  later  time  giv- 
ing details  of  my  military  experience  during  that 
and  the  two  following  years. 

REDISCOVERING  RELATIVES 

If  my  readers  had  the  patience  to  peruse  the 
narrative  of  the  coming  of  the  ancestors  of  the  Atkin- 
son family  from  England  in  1699,  they  may  remember 
that  emigrant  John  died  on  the  way  over,  so  that  his 
two  sons,  William,  aged  twelve,  and  John,  aged  four, 
survived  the  voyage  and  were  taken  to  Bucks 
county  in  care  of  Friends'  Meeting;  that  they  both 
grew  up  and  married ;  that  William  had  no  sons,  but 
John,  who  was  my  lineal  ancestor,  had  several. 
John  and  his  descendants  remained  in  Bucks  county, 
while  William  moved  to  Montgomery  county  in 
1716  and  had  numerous  descendants  of  other  names 
than  Atkinson. 

It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  two  fami- 
lies should  lose  trace  of  each  other,  as,  in  fact,  they 
did.  William's  descendants  in  Montgomery  county 

72 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

were  quite  as  numerous  as  John's  in  Bucks.  It  was 
not  until  long  after  Thomas  Atkinson,  my  father, 
moved  to  Upper  Dublin  that  anything  became  known 
to  us  of  William  Atkinson's  descendants.  My  father, 
in  looking  over  some  titles  at  Norristown,  the  county 
seat  of  Montgomery  county,  came  across  the  name 
of  William  Atkinson  and  there  learned  that  William 
Atkinson  had  taken  title  to  a  farm  in  Upper  Dublin 
adjoining  his  own,  and  that  he  owned  this  farm  until 
1751,  when  he  died;  that  William's  descendants 
abounded  in  the  neighborhood;  that  his  grand- 
daughter had  inherited  the  identical  farm  father 
bought,  had  erected  the  buildings  on  it,  the  house  in 
1793,  and  the  barn  in  1814;  that  this  granddaughter 
presented  the  land  of  one  corner  of  the  farm  for  the 
Friends'  Meeting  House;  and  that  the  Atkinson 
chair,  heretofore  referred  to,  was  with  William  until 
he  died,  passing  then  to  his  daughter.  The  descend- 
ants of  the  lost  brother  William  had  been  found  after 
a  lapse  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  years.  The  William 
Atkinson  farm  is  now  owned  and  occupied  by  the 
School  of  Horticulture  for  Women.  It  seemed  a 
curious  coincidence  that  the  families  so  long  sepa- 
rated should  come  together  after  so  many  years  and 
without  any  premeditated  effort  of  either  to  find  the 
location  of  the  other.  It  was  not  difficult  after  this 
to  trace  the  whereabouts  of  the  Atkinson  chair  made 
by  emigrant  John  and  brought  with  him  from  Eng- 
land in  1699. 

THE  FUGITIVE  SLAVE  LAW 

Long  before  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law  was  enacted 
there  were  cases  of  kidnapping  of  blacks  in  various 
parts  of  the  country,  mostly  near  the  borders.  I  re- 
member my  father's  telling  more  than  once  of  the 
successful  attempt  to  capture  a  negro  called  "  Big 

73 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Ben,"  somewhere  in  Bucks  county.  Ben  was  a  man 
of  immense  stature  and  strength.  While  he  was 
chopping  wood  one  day  alone  in  the  woods,  the  kid- 
nappers came  upon  him  unaware  and,  after  a  hard 
struggle,  succeeded  in  throwing  him  down  and  fast- 
ening his  wrists  together  with  handcuffs.  It  was 
said  that  had  Ben's  overalls  not  come  down  and 
tangled  his  legs,  he  would  have  beaten  his  captors. 
He  was  taken  South  but  eventually  was  purchased 
by  some  of  his  old  neighbors  and  returned  home. 

The  year  following  our  removal  from  Warwick 
to  Upper  Dublin  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law  was  passed 
by  Congress.  The  whole  decade  from  1850  up  to  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Civil  War  was  one  of  great 
political  agitation.  There  was  a  growing  sentiment 
everywhere  in  the  North  against  the  encroachments 
of  the  slave  power.  In  1856  the  Republican  party 
was  born,  and  Fremont  was  the  candidate  of  the 
party.  James  Buchanan,  the  candidate  of  the  Demo- 
cratic party,  was  elected  president.  An  organization 
of  young  men,  called  "  Wideawakes,"  was  alive  with 
torches  and  banners  at  the  political  meetings  every- 
where throughout  the  country  during  the  campaign. 
A  year  later  many  of  those  lusty  "  Wideawakes  " 
went  forth  to  battle  at  the  call  of  President  Lincoln 
to  save  the  imperilled  Union. 

The  Fugitive  Slave  Law  was  one  to  be  defied 
rather  than  obeyed  by  liberty-loving  people,  who 
were  not  willing  to  become  slave-hunters  according 
as  the  law  enjoined.  They  were  not  willing  to  aid 
in  the  return  of  runaway  slaves  to  their  masters,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  helped  the  fugitives  on  their  way 
to  freedom.  The  so-called  underground  railroad  was 
built  and  soon  was  in  running  order.  Its  work  was 
done  in  secret.  It  was  managed  by  independent, 
resolute  men  who  refused  to  obey  the  Fugitive  Slave 

74 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

Law.  Beyond  all  others,  the  Quakers  were  alive  to 
the  iniquity  of  the  slave  institution ;  they  refused  to 
join  in  the  chase  of  colored  men  and  women  that 
they  might  be  returned  to  slavery.  On  the  other 
hand,  they  secretly,  and  sometimes  openly,  defied  the 
Federal  officers  who  came  among  them  to  enforce 
the  law.  I  never  knew  a  Friend  to  lend  himself  to 
the  business  of  slave  catching.  Some  of  the  Friends 
got  into  the  clutches  of  the  law,  but  that  made 
no  difference. 

Our  Upper  Dublin  farm  was  a  station  on  a 
lateral  branch  of  the  underground  railroad.  I  recall 
a  winter  morning  when  the  country  was  covered 
deep  with  snow  and  more  snow  was  falling.  I  saw 
father  fare  forth  in  a  sleigh,  going  north,  with  a 
black  man  all  bundled  up  in  the  back  of  the  sleigh, 
well  hidden  from  sight.  Whence  he  came  or  whither 
he  went  I  never  knew,  for  it  was  not  a  matter  to  talk 
about.  Such  defiance  of  an  unjust  law,  passed  by  a 
degenerate  Congress,  was  as  a  matter  of  course. 
From  the  beginning  of  the  Civil  War,  the  under- 
ground railroad  was  closed  to  business;  there  was 
no  more  traffic  for  it. 

Long  before  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law  was  passed, 
Friends  got  into  the  clutches  of  the  law  for  helping 
fugitives  to  escape.  There  was  a  notable  experience 
of  this  nature  in  Horsham  township,  adjoining 
Upper  Dublin,  in  which  John  E.  Kenderdine,  who 
later  married  my  aunt  Martha  Quinby,  mother's 
sister,  was  prominent.  A  colored  man,  named  John, 
worked  for  my  uncle's  father.  On  the  evening  of  the 
twentieth  of  October,  a  party  of  five  men  came  to  the 
Kenderdine  home.  They  obtained  entrance  to  the 
house  on  some  pretext  and,  with  loud  threats,  seized 
the  colored  man,  handcuffed  him,  and  put  him  into 
a  dearborn  wagon.  They  were  prepared  to  drive 

75 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

off  with  him  when  a  member  of  the  family  told  them 
they  must  go  before  the  judge  and  prove  property 
and  show  their  authority.  To  this  demand  they 
roughly  replied  that  they  had  authority  enough  and 
told  the  speaker  to  stand  off  or  they  would  blow  him 
through.  They  then  drove  away  at  rapid  speed. 
Several  persons  followed  them,  calling  on  them  to 
stop ;  the  whole  neighborhood  became  aroused.  The 
kidnappers  were  in  a  closed  wagon  and  their  horses 
were  urged  to  their  top  speed,  but  their  followers  on 
horseback  kept  pace  with  them,  riding  alongside  and 
in  front,  and  with  clubs  and  stones  battering  the 
wagon  and  obstructing  its  passage,  so  that  the  kid- 
nappers were  glad  to  stop  at  a  hotel  in  the  village  of 
Crooked  Billet,  now  Hatboro,  where  they  were  taken 
out  of  their  wagon  and  placed  in  an  upper  room, 
remaining  under  guard  all  night.  Uncle  John  was 
one  of  those  who  stood  guard. 

The  kidnappers  were  forced  the  next  day  to  go 
before  a  magistrate.  The  judge  demanded  a  bill  of 
sale  and  ordered  them  to  prove  their  identity.  They 
claimed  John  by  inheritance.  They  were  forthwith 
arrested  for  kidnapping,  and  bail,  in  the  sum  of  six 
thousand  dollars,  was  demanded  or  imprisonment.  The 
trial  for  kidnapping  took  place  in  Norristown  in  1823. 
In  charging  the  jury,  Judge  Ross  stated  that  he  had 
doubts  about  the  black  man's  being  a  slave,  but  he  would 
advise  an  acquittal.  The  jury  finally  acquitted  them. 
Then  a  counter-suit  was  instituted  against  the 
Kenderdines,  whom  some  of  the  neighbors  charged 
with  harboring  and  attempting  to  rescue  a  slave. 
Damages  to  the  amount  of  ten  thousand  dollars  were 
claimed  against  them.  The  suit  was  postponed  from 
time  to  time  for  ten  years.  It  finally  came  off  before  the 
United  States  Circuit  Court  in  Philadelphia  in  1833. 
The  jury  rendered  a  verdict  of  four  thousand  dollars 

76 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

damages  against  John  E.  Kenderdine  and  five  other 
prominent  men  of  Horsham,  and  fifteen  hundred  dollars 
costs  were  added.  Some  of  the  parties  were  wholly  un- 
able to  bear  the  loss,  so  that  several  petitions  for  assist- 
ance were  circulated  in  different  neighborhoods. 
Twenty-two  persons  subscribed,  and  the  total  sum 
raised  for  indemnity  was  but  three  hundred  and 
seventy-five  dollars  and  fifty  cents.  Of  the  twenty- 
two  persons  who  assisted  in  raising  funds,  twenty 
were  members  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  It  is  an 
interesting  fact  that,  of  the  twelve  men  who  chased 
the  kidnappers  to  Hatboro,  and  clubbed  and  stoned 
them  on  the  way,  eight  were  members  of  the  peace- 
able Society  of  Friends. 

JOHN  SIMPSON'S  FARM 

Four  miles  up  the  main  road  from  our  Upper 
Dublin  home  there  stood  an  old  farm-house  dating 
back  to  Colonial  times.  Adjacent  to  the  house  is  a 
bake-oven  which  still  stands  and  is  said  to  have  been 
used  by  the  Continental  army  when  in  the  vicinity. 
I  have  no  official  documents  to  prove  it  was  used 
for  that  purpose,  but  it  looks  as  if  it  had  been.  This 
house  and  oven  had  belonged  to  John  Simpson,  who 
dwelt  here  until  he  removed  with  his  family  to 
Ohio  in  1817.  According  to  tradition,  John  was  a 
somewhat  eccentric  character  with  a  strong  trait  of 
stubbornness  in  his  make-up.  He  had  a  daughter 
Hannah  who  was  about  sixteen  years  of  age  when 
she  moved  west  with  her  father.  They  travelled  in 
a  wagon,  there  being  no  other  way  to  go;  and  since 
they  must  have  gone  through  Philadelphia  to  reach 
the  Lancaster  road  leading  to  the  west,  they  must 
have  passed  through  our  village  which  was  on  the 
main  road  to  the  city.  Just  thirty-two  years  before 
the  time  when  we  drove  our  cows  through  the  vil- 

77 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

lage  of  Three  Tuns,  the  girl  Hannah,  who  was  to 
become  the  mother  of  General  Ulysses  S.  Grant, 
passed  that  way,  though  surely  not  with  a  drove 
of  cows. 

Among  the  men  tried  and  convicted  for  interfer- 
ing against  the  kidnappers  in  the  case  recited  above, 
was  Robert  Kenderdine,  brother  of  my  uncle  John. 
His  sister  once  told  me  that  Robert  paid  court  to 
Hannah  Simpson,  but  considering  her  age,  this  seems 
doubtful,  unless,  perhaps,  she  may  have  been  older 
than  sixteen  when  she  went  away.  Anyhow,  Jesse 
Grant  won  Hannah  for  his  bride.  My  wife  and  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  shaking  hands  with  their  son, 
Ulysses,  in  Washington  while  on  our  wedding  jour- 
ney— but  of  this  later. 

A  VENTURE  INTO  PSYCHIC  PHENOMENA  AND 
PHRENOLOGY 

There  was  a  period  in  my  life  on  the  Upper  Dub- 
lin farm  in  which  spirit-rappings,  phrenology,  and 
mesmerism  engaged  a  good  deal  of  attention  among 
the  young  folks  and  even  their  elders.  We  tried  to 
make  tables  move  without  our  volition,  by  sitting 
around  with  our  hands  on  them ;  but  they  would  not 
budge,  no  spirits  knocked  for  us.  I  became  inter- 
ested in  phrenology  and  used  to  examine  people's 
bumps  to  decipher  their  characteristics.  Fowler  and 
Wells  published  a  journal  devoted  to  this  so-called 
science  and  we  subscribed  for  it.  Often  a  lecturer 
would  appear  in  the  neighborhood  and  many  would 
go  to  hear  him.  He  would  call  for  volunteers  to  go 
through  the  ordeal  of  examination,  and  then  he  would 
tell  just  what  sort  of  person  the  subject  was.  This 
created  a  good  deal  of  amusement  for  the  audience. 
We  boys  took  it  up  and  we  were  often  called  to 
examine  heads.  We  made  some  good  guesses  and 

78 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

acquired  quite  a  reputation  in  our  efforts  to  demon- 
strate the  truth  of  the  so-called  science.  Nearly 
everybody  in  the  country  round  had  maps  made  of 
their  heads.  I  was  convinced  then,  and  am  now, 
that  there  is  some  truth  in  phrenology,  but  not  so 
much  as  was  claimed  for  it  by  Fowler  and  Wells. 
It  is  out  of  vogue  now. 

Mesmerism  awakened  more  interest  in  our  neigh- 
borhood than  spirit-rappings  or  phrenology.  In  our 
social  parties,  at  one  period,  the  subject  of  mesmer- 
ism would  be  called  up  and  the  truth  of  the  science 
put  to  the  test.  I  often  found  persons  who  could  be 
subjected  to  its  influence  by  an  exercise  of  the  will 
and  the  making  of  downward  strokes  before  the  face 
of  the  subject,  who  would  yield  to  a  power  that 
seemed  impossible  for  him  to  resist.  The  subject's 
will  became  subordinate  to  that  of  the  operator. 
Give  him  a  stick,  a  stone,  or  any  object,  and  say  to 
him  that  it  was  a  rabbit  and  he  would  believe  it  and 
stroke  it  as  he  would  a  pet.  Only  about  one  person 
out  of  a  company,  say,  of  twenty,  could  be  mesmer- 
ized, but  usually  the  one  person  was  found. 

We  had  a  young  fellow  working  for  us  who  was 
very  susceptible  to  the  will  of  the  operator.  His  will 
would  become  subjected  to  the  mesmerizer  and  he 
apparently  had  none  left  of  his  own.  On  one  occa- 
sion, while  under  this  curious  influence,  he  was  told 
that  the  moon,  which  was  up  about  fifteen  degrees, 
was  a  barn  afire.  He  believed  it,  was  for  running  to 
the  fire,  and  was  with  great  difficulty  restrained  from 
doing  so.  Afterwards  he  continued  to  be  in  a  trance 
which  lasted  several  days,  and  we  were  afraid  that 
we  would  not  be  able  to  restore  his  equilibrium. 
After  that  we  side-tracked  mesmerism,  fearing  it 
might  be  harmful  to  those  subjected  in  this  way  to 
the  influence  of  another's  will. 

79 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

ELECTION  METHODS  IN  THE  'FIFTIES 

When  there  was  an  election  in  Upper  Dublin  in 
the  'fifties,  men  old  enough  to  vote  would  proceed  in 
the  direction  of  the  tavern,  where  the  polls  were  to 
be  opened.  Some  went  early  in  the  morning,  carry- 
ing their  guns  with  them,  but  not  for  the  purpose  of 
shooting  the  voters  who  belonged  to  the  party  op- 
posed. After  voting  and  sitting  around  the  room 
for  a  social  chat,  the  men  with  guns  would  tramp 
over  the  fields  in  quest  of  cotton-tails.  All  the  men, 
or  nearly  all  the  men  of  the  district,  would  turn  out 
unless  it  was  stormy,  while  the  aged  or  crippled 
citizens  would  wait  at  home  until  they  were  sent  for 
in  a  market  wagon. 

Another  custom  then  in  vogue,  as  it  is  now,  was 
to  vote  the  ticket  of  the  party  to  which  one's  grand- 
father belonged.  Men  kept  on  voting  for  General 
Jackson  and  Tippecanoe  and  Tyler  long  after  these 
worthies  had  been  laid  to  rest.  In  the  early  'fifties 
there  were  two  kinds  of  voters,  Whigs  and  Loco 
Focos,  but  by  1856  most  of  the  Whigs  became  Repub- 
licans, and  the  Loco  Focos  became  Democrats.  The 
Republicans  voted  for  Fremont  and  Dayton,  while 
the  Democrats  voted  and  shouted  for  Buchanan  and 
Breckenridge.  Even  some  of  the  Whigs  voted  for 
Buchanan  in  the  belief  that  their  grandfathers  had 
formerly  done  so. 

When  the  voters  reached  the  tavern  they  would 
enter  the  bar-room  where  all  kinds  of  liquor  flowed 
freely,  some  taking  their  whiskey  straight,  others 
ordering  lemonade  or  sarsaparilla  with  a  few  ginger 
cakes  on  the  side.  The  voting  was  going  on  in  the 
adjoining  room,  much  the  same  as  now,  except  that 
the  ballots  were  in  size  about  five  inches  long  and 
two  inches  wide,  while  in  these  days  the  ballots  are 

80 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

measured  by  feet  rather  than  inches.  When  the 
voter  went  in  to  cast  his  ballot,  he  would  take  out  of 
his  vest  pocket  a  diminutive  bit  of  crumpled  paper 
containing  the  names  of  the  candidates  of  his  choice, 
and  he  would  drop  it  into  one  small  box  placed  there 
to  hold  all  the  votes  that  were  offered  and  then  be 
only  half  full. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  mammoth  sheets,  used 
now  for  registering  what  party  one's  grandfather 
voted,  are  intended  to  keep  the  voter  from  casting 
his  ballot  for  his  real  choice,  and  to  hoodwink  him 
into  voting  for  the  favorite  of  the  political  manager 
who  furnishes  him  the  ballot,  or  to  confuse  his  vot- 
ing, so  that  it  will  be  thrown  out  of  the  count.  Obvi- 
ously, the  new  kind  of  ballot  is  furnished  to  the 
voter,  not  to  enable  him  to  vote  for  his  choice,  but 
really  to  make  his  vote  more  or  less  of  a  farce.  By 
afternoon  the  bar-room  would  begin  to  grow  more 
noisy  and  the  liquor  would  flow  more  freely.  Some 
doubtful  voter  would  be  won  over  by  having  his 
brain  befuddled  or  by  being  bribed  with  a  hot  oyster 
stew  and  a  few  crackers.  The  voting  would  con- 
tinue until  nightfall  and  the  counting  would  be  fin- 
ished long  before  midnight.  It  cannot  be  said  that 
the  election  was  disorderly,  only  that  there  were 
some  voters,  as  now,  who  would  become  more  or 
less  hilarious,  and  go  home  with  their  guns  and  bags 
of  rabbits  singing  and  shouting. 

SOME  LITERARY  EFFORTS 

In  the  summer  of  1858,  before  we  went  to  Norris- 
town  to  live,  Howard  M.  Jenkins  and  I  conceived 
the  idea  of  writing  a  history  of  the  churches  of  Mont- 
gomery county ;  and  when  the  work  was  slack  on 
the  farms  we  started  out  on  our  mission.  I  think  we 
left  home  in  August  and  tramped  over  the  dusty 
6  81 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

roads  for  many  days,  carrying  our  knapsacks,  just  as 
we  did  four  years  later  down  to  the  Cumberland 
valley  in  search  of  the  presumptuous  men  from  the 
South  who  threatened  to  invade  our  sacred  soil.  We 
had  a  contract  with  a  county  paper  for  weekly  articles 
at  ten  dollars  each.  The  agreement  was  carried  out, 
though  I  do  not  know  just  how  far,  for  the  reason 
that  work  on  the  farm  compelled  me  to  withdraw 
from  the  enterprise  before  it  was  fully  completed. 
Howard,  being  a  much  better  historian,  did  the  writ- 
ing, while  I  assisted  in  gathering  the  material.  That 
I  ever  earned  any  of  the  ten  dollars,  I  doubt ;  if  so,  I 
am  sure  that  I  have  none  of  it  now.  At  least  two 
years  before  we  left  our  fathers'  farms,  Howard  and 
I  used  to  write  letters  to  the  Norristown  papers, 
some  of  which  the  editors  had  the  grace  and  kindness 
to  publish.  The  letters  I  wrote,  I  am  sure,  exhibited 
a  callowness  and  shallowness  that  ought  to  have 
consigned  them  to  the  waste  basket.  Howard  wrote 
much  better.  He  had  a  great  gift  of  expression,  even 
when  a  boy,  and  became  not  only  a  successful  editor, 
but  a  distinguished  historian.  But  by  keeping  in 
touch  with  the  Norristown  editors  we  opened  the 
way  for  one  of  them  to  sell  his  paper  to  us  at  a  price 
which  seemed  reasonable.  Later  the  reader  will  hear 
about  our  entrance  into  the  publishing  business  in 
our  county  town. 

UPPER  DUBLIN  DAYS  DRAW  TO  A  CLOSE 

My  boyhood  on  our  Upper  Dublin  farm  is,  on 
the  whole,  pleasantly  remembered.  It  lasted  thirteen 
years.  There  was  no  thought  of  marriage  until  sev- 
eral years  thereafter,  because  there  was  no  visible 
means  of  supporting  a  wife.  After  the  original  pur- 
chase of  the  farm,  father  had  bought  adjacent  land, 
so  that  he  owned  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  acres  in  all. 

82 


CHILDREN  OF  THOMAS  AND  HANNAH  ATKINSON 

At  left,  sitting:    Emma  E.  (Mrs.  .T.  Heston  Smith),  Albert,  Mary  Anna 

(Mrs.  Howard  M.  Jenkins).     Standing,  at  left,  Wilmer;  James  Q. 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

This  being  divided,  James  first  rented,  afterwards  pur- 
chased eighty  acres,  and  Albert  rented  and  afterwards 
bought  the  fifty-six  acres  containing  the  original  farm 
buildings.  Father  and  mother  lived  with  him  the  re- 
mainder of  their  lives. 

May  I  here  speak  of  that  rare  woman,  my  mother? 
She  possessed  great  personal  pride ;  she  was  self- 
respecting;  in  many  ways  she  was  unusual.  When 
things  were  all  at  sixes  and  sevens  I  never  heard  her 
scold  any  one.  She  was  provoked  sometimes,  of 
course,  but  did  not  bring  forth  harsh  words.  When 
about  her  work,  she  talked  a  great  deal  and  con- 
tinually made  humorous  remarks.  She  saw  the 
funny  side  of  things  and  that  helped  her  to 
bear  her  burdens.  She  was  busy  from  morn- 
ing till  night.  She  read  the  papers  when  she  had 
time,  but  seldom  books.  She  was  a  friend  to  the 
slave,  to  the  poor,  and  to  everybody.  She  must  have 
suffered  pain  sometimes,  but  she  never  let  it  be 
known.  She  had  an  attack  of  smallpox,  but  it  was 
a  light  one.  She  never  had  neuritis,  rheumatism, 
headache,  or  backache;  and  to  the  last  she  could 
walk  without  any  marked  evidence  of  great  age  ex- 
cept feebleness.  She  was  twenty-seven  years  old 
when  she  married ;  she  lived  to  celebrate  her  golden 
wedding  anniversary  and  sixteen  years  longer.  She 
died  in  her  ninety-fourth  year. 

"  The  most  wonderful  thing  in  all  nature  is  a 
mother.  Most  of  all  the  other  beautiful  things  in  life 
come  by  twos  and  threes,  by  dozens  and  hundreds; 
plenty  of  roses,  stars  and  sunsets,  rainbows,  brothers 
and  sisters,  aunts  and  cousins,  but  only  one  mother  in 
all  the  wide  world." 

My  father  did  not  belong  to  a  race  of  such  long 
livers  as  mother,  yet  he  passed  to  his  reward  in  his 
eightieth  year.  His  health  was  uniformly  good  up  to 

83 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

the  age  of  seventy-five.  He  was  a  hard  worker,  a 
great  reader,  a  deep  thinker,  and  a  forceful  writer. 
His  benevolence  was  a  marked  characteristic.  He 
was  a  good  farmer  who  got  along  amicably  with  his 
hired  help.  Like  his  father,  he  was  opposed  to  all 
dram-drinking;  he  never  smoked;  met  his  finan- 
cial obligations  with  fidelity.  He  was  opposed  to 
slavery,  voted  the  Whig  ticket  until  the  party  dis- 
appeared below  the  horizon ;  then  he  became  a  Re- 
publican, voting  for  Fremont,  then  for  Abraham 
Lincoln.  He  was  a  good  father. 


MYSELF  AT  ABOUT  FIFTEEN  YEARS  OF  AGE 


MY  WIFE— TO  BE 


CHAPTER  IX 

BUYING  A  WEEKLY  PAPER,  AND  CIVIL 
WAR  MEMORIES 

MY  sisters  having  married  and  gone  away,  my 
brothers  settled  on  the  farms.  Since  teaching  school 
was  not  a  career  that  I  cared  to  follow,  I  was  ready 
for  something  to  turn  up  that  would  suit  my  yearn- 
ings and  give  scope  to  my  energies  and  ambition. 
That  something  did  turn  up. 

I  learned  that  a  Norristown  paper  could  be  pur- 
chased for  one  thousand  dollars;  and  it  developed 
that  my  friend,  Howard  M.  Jenkins,  of  the  neigh- 
boring township  of  Gwynedd,  had  a  yearning  similar 
to  my  own.  So  we  each  borrowed  five  hundred  dol- 
lars of  our  good  fathers  and  bought  the  Norristown 
Republican  for  that  sum.  This  was  in  the  summer 
of  1862.  I  remember  well  with  what  trepidation  I 
went  out  to  the  strawberry  patch  where  father  was 
hoeing  to  ask  him  if  he  would  lend  me  the  amount 
needed.  He  was  evidently  surprised,  but  seemed 
not  unfriendly  to  the  project.  The  result  was  that 
he  furnished  the  money.  How  he  did  it  I  do  not 
know,  but  he  probably  borrowed  most  of  it. 
Howard's  father  also  came  to  time  with  the  other 
five  hundred  dollars.  It  was  June  when  we  con- 
ceived this  fine  idea;  but  though  we  were  anxious 
to  be  off,  we  could  not  in  fairness  leave  our  homes 
until  the  crops  were  harvested.  It  was  a  sizzling 
hot  day  in  early  August  when  I  did  my  last  stunt  at 
farming  until  many  years  afterwards.  The  oats  crop 
was  yet  to  be  harvested.  Back  of  the  woods  I  bound 
sheaves  all  day  and  I  was  nearly  overcome  with  the 

85 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

heat.  The  next  day  I  rode  up  to  Howard's,  four 
miles  away,  and  after  dinner  we  started  for  our  new 
field  of  endeavor. 

I  remember  that,  on  reaching  a  high  point  over- 
looking the  town,  we  paused  for  observation.  We 
could  see  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  the  steeples  of  the 
churches,  the  tall  chimneys  of  the  factories  and  the 
shining  surface  of  the  Schuylkill  river  moving  below, 
us  on  its  way  southward.  It  was  indeed  a  moment 
to  be  remembered — our  boyhood  life  behind  us,  be- 
fore us  we  knew  not  what.  We  could  not  know. 
The  brief  time  spent  on  that  hill  in  contemplating 
the  past  and  wondering  about  the  future  was  one  of 
the  most  portentous  moments  of  my  life.  We 
entered  the  town,  sought  our  boarding  places, 
dined,  and  proceeded  to  our  publishing  plant.  The 
weekly  edition  of  the  Republican  was  on  press  and 
was  being  printed. 

Our  printing  plant  was  on  the  second  floor  of  a 
grocery  store  kept  by  Daniel  Longacre,  a  kindly 
old  gentleman  intent  on  earning  and  getting  all  the 
trade  he  could.  (When  a  young  man  of  twenty-two 
speaks  of  an  old  gentleman,  it  does  not  mean  that 
the  gentleman  alluded  to  is  really  old,  but  only  that 
he  seems  so,  while,  in  fact,  he  may  not  be  over 
forty-five.)  We  were  well  located  in  one  of  the  best 
business  corners  in  town,  but  our  entrance  was  a 
small  door  on  the  side  street.  The  office  was  in  the 
room  where  the  paper  was  printed.  The  furniture 
of  the  office  was  meagre — a  couple  of  desks  and  three 
or  four  chairs.  There  was  no  sofa  to  rest  on  when  we 
grew  tired ;  weariness  was  not  provided  for.  In  look- 
ing around  the  room  I  saw  a  few  bundles  of  paper, 
a  month's  supply,  which  could  have  been  carried  up 
the  narrow  stairs  by  the  express  messenger  in  one 
load.  There  was  a  large  stone  on  a  stand  in  the 

86 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

centre  of  the  room  used  for  holding  the  four-page 
type  forms.  When  the  forms  were  on  the  press,  the 
stone  was  used  to  hold  the  papers  which  were  being 
folded.  By  the  front  windows  there  were  cases 
holding  small  type  for  the  paper,  and  there  was  a 
lot  of  large  type,  some  of  it  wood,  for  job  printing, 
especially  for  the  printing  of  posters  for  farmers' 
auction  sales  which  we  hoped  would  come  our  way. 
Pulling  at  the  hand  press  such  as  Franklin  used  (I 
really  could  not  tell  whether  it  was  or  was  not  the 
one  that  the  philosopher  used)  stood  John  H. 
Williams,  the  foreman  of  the  shop.  At  the  cases 
were  Ad.  Shrack,  who  soon  joined  Lincoln's  army, 
where  he  was  to  render  heroic  service,  Dave  Markley, 
red  haired  and  jovial,  beyond  the  military  age,  and 
young  Munshower,  full  of  energy  and  gabble.  We 
never  had  a  first-hand  view  of  what  this  quartette 
of  printers  thought  of  the  two  farm  boys,  one  of 
them  under  age,  who  had  just  come  to  town  to  show 
them  and  the  town  how  a  weekly  paper  ought  to  be 
run.  It  was  well  we  did  not.  Williams,  the  fore- 
man, was  a  brilliant  man  who  became  well  known  as 
a  humorous  writer,  and  later  burgess  of  the  borough. 
He  was  also  the  most  artistic  job  printer  in  the 
town.  Thus  equipped,  we  started  as  publishers  of 
the  Norristozun  Republican,  fifty-eight  years  ago. 
Including  exchanges  and  copies  sent  to  adver- 
tisers, the  number  of  our  paper  printed  was  about 
five  hundred. 

Before  we  became  well  initiated  into  the  work 
the  tocsin  of  war  sounded.  The  Confederates,  hav- 
ing circled  around  our  army,  were  on  a  rapid  march 
north.  Great  excitement  prevailed,  amounting  al- 
most to  a  panic,  among  the  people  everywhere,  for 
there  was  fear  that  our  state  would  be  invaded. 
Governor  Curtin  issued  a  call  for  volunteers  to  in- 

87 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

tercept  the  Confederates  and  make  them  face  the 
other  way.  I  do  not  remember  how  many  vol- 
unteers answered  the  call ;  but  I  know  they  made 
quite  a  large  army,  if  it  could  be  justly  so  desig- 
nated. The  new  proprietors  of  the  Republican 
joined  the  ranks,  and  inside  of  two  weeks  were  fac- 
ing the  enemy  at  Hagerstown,  Maryland,  and  were 
smelling  the  smoke  and  listening  to  the  roar  of 
cannon  and  rifle  fire  of  the  great  battle  of  Antietam. 
But  we  were  ten  miles  away  and  got  no  closer  to  the 
conflict.  We  had  been  mustered  in  to  defend  the 
state  and  no  provision  was  made  in  the  governor's 
call  for  crossing  the  line  into  Maryland.  Some 
members  of  our  regiment  were  ready,  I  can  hardly 
say  anxious,  to  obey  the  colonel's  order  to  march 
down  the  pike  in  the  direction  of  the  battle  sounds. 
This  willingness  to  risk  the  dangers  of  the  combat 
was  far  from  general  in  the  regiment. 

The  night  following  the  battle  we  of  the  Eleventh 
Regiment  slept  on  our  arms  in  a  clover  field  on  the 
outskirts  of  Hagerstown.  By  next  morning  the  fir- 
ing down  the  road  had  ceased ;  yet  word  came  to  our 
colonel  to  have  the  regiment  ready  to  march  at  a 
moment's  notice,  as  McClellan  had  sent  for  us.  In  the 
afternoon  we  learned  that  the  danger  was  over  and 
our  services  would  not  immediately  be  needed.  It 
was  then  that  we  hired  vehicles,  such  as  were  avail- 
able in  the  town,  and  drove  post  haste  to  the  scene 
of  the  great  battle.  Arriving  there  we  wandered 
around  among  the  boys  in  blue  who  were  still  liv- 
ing and  writing  letters  to  home  folks,  and  among 
those  who  had  fallen  in  battle.  I  have  not  the  figures 
before  me,  but  as  I  remember,  there  were  over 
twelve  thousand  casualties  on  the  Union  side.  The 
tide  of  invasion  was  turned  back  and  the  Confed- 
erates hurried  across  the  Potomac  to  return  the  next 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

summer  to  create  another  alarm  in  our  state,  and  to 
be  turned  back  once  again,  and  finally,  from  the 
rocky  ramparts  of  Gettysburg. 

I  never  knew  how  much  the  presence  of  our  regi- 
ment at  Hagerstown  had  to  do  with  the  decision  of 
General  Lee  not  to  venture  any  further  towards 
Harrisburg  and  Philadelphia,  but  to  hurry  back 
home.  If  he  had  seen  the  martial  fire  in  our  eyes, 
especially  after  the  battle  was  over,  he  certainly 
would  have  been  dismayed,  if  not  paralyzed.  To  be 
sure,  we  were  never  drilled  in  the  arts  of  war,  but 
we  were  strong  for  the  Union  and  the  honor  of  our 
state.  In  our  regiment  were  a  number  of  Quakers, 
among  them  my  brother  James.  Two  of  my  cousins, 
sons  of  my  aunt  Martha  and  my  uncle  James,  were 
somewhere  in  the  ranks.  Two  of  my  cousins,  one 
aunt  Martha's  son  and  the  other  aunt  Mary's,  were 
in  the  army  of  the  Potomac  following  the  Confed- 
erates north.  One  of  them  was  killed  the  next  sum- 
mer at  Gettysburg  and  the  other  died  of  wounds  in 
an  army  hospital.  Though  all  of  them  were  mem- 
bers of  the  Society  of  Friends,  and  knew  its  testi- 
mony against  war,  they  were  not  found  wanting 
when  the  Union  needed  defenders. 

My  cousin  Thaddeus  Kenderdine  was  with  us  in 
the  clover  field  at  Hagerstown,  and  wrote  an  inter- 
esting account  of  our  experience  there  as  follows: 
"  It  was  on  the  afternoon  following  the  battle  of 
Antietam  that  three  Pennsylvania  boys  of  the  emer- 
gency militia,  who  had  not  hesitated  to  cross  the 
line,  were  enjoying  for  a  while  the  hospitality  of  a 
Mrs.  Kennedy,  a  loyal  woman,  in  her  home  in  Hag- 
erstown. The  lady's  kindness  was  soon  well  known 
to  Union  soldiers.  I  was  one  of  the  trio  resting  on 
the  Kennedy  porch,  the  other  two  being  young  journ- 
alists— Wilmer  Atkinson  and  Howard  M.  Jenkins — 

89 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

all  of  us  full  of  discussion,  mainly  concerning  the 
recent  victory  and  the  effect  it  would  have  on  the 
pending  war.  While  we  were  there,  the  front  door 
opened  and  a  somewhat  tall,  slender  young  man 
came  out  among  us.  He  had  a  small,  dark  mustache 
and  his  neck  was  swathed  around  with  a  cloth  as  if 
he  was  being  treated  for  diphtheria.  He  wore  the 
shoulder  straps  of  a  captain,  and  his  home  name 
was  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  Jr.  He  was  the 
wounded  soldier  for  whom  Doctor  Holmes  had  been 
looking  for  days.  He  was  nonchalantly  smoking 
one  of  the  cigars  of  the  country,  but  how  he  per- 
formed that  function,  according  to  the  law  of  pneu- 
matics, with  a  hole  through  his  neck,  was  past  find- 
ing out.  I  only  know  that  the  leaden  perforation 
came  near  depriving  the  United  States  Supreme 
Court  of  a  valued  member,  and  the  Union  army  of 
a  soldier  who  further  distinguished  himself  before 
the  war  was  over.  The  next  day  after  the  battle  we 
had  sight  of  the  wounded  who  could  bear  transporta- 
tion in  ambulances,  and  in  rude  farm  wagons.  Those 
whose  wounds  would  admit  came  on  foot.  Holmes 
came  in  a  milk  wagon.  The  wounded  came  to  Hag- 
erstown  by  hundreds  in  the  early  and  late  morning 
and  lay  along  the  roadside  awaiting  transportation. 
The  humble  dead  on  the  battlefield  were  being  buried 
where  they  fell,  while  those  of  rank  were  lying  in  a 
sort  of  state  in  public  buildings." 

I  well  remember  meeting  and  conversing  with 
Holmes  at  Kennedy's.  He  was  a  vivacious  chap, 
twenty-one  years  old.  He  was  not  a  small  man  like 
his  famous  father.  The  New  England  accent  was 
marked  in  his  speech;  he  talked  freely  and  had  a 
fine  flow  of  spirits.  He  had  been  previously  wounded 
in  the  breast  at  Balls  Bluff,  and  the  next  year,  at 
Fredericksburg,  in  the  foot.  He  served  through  the 

90 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

war  in  the  Twentieth  Massachusetts  Regiment.  He 
has  been  judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States  since  1902,  and  is  as  grave  and  dignified  as 
the  rest  of  them.  It  would  be  interesting  to  see  his 
scars,  but  it  is  not  supposed  that  he  wears  them  for 
show.  Young  Holmes's  father  received  this  dispatch 
at  midnight  after  the  carnage  was  over  at  Antietam : 
"  Captain  H.  wounded,  shot  through  the  neck ;  thought 
not  mortal."  At  once  he  started  for  the  front  and, 
a  little  later,  the  account  of  his  search,  entitled  "  My 
Hunt  for  the  Captain,"  was  printed  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly.  The  captain  was  in  no  hurry  to  leave  Mrs. 
Kennedy's,  so  he  stayed  there  for  a  week  until  his 
daddy  found  him  and  took  him  home  to  be  patched 
up.  Mrs.  Kennedy  was  a  widow  with  two  sprightly, 
grown-up  daughters,  which  fact  may  have  induced 
the  captain  to  linger.  It  was  here  father  and  son 
met  with  the  salutations:  "How  are  you,  boy?" 
"How  are  you,  Dad?" 

On  the  way  home  they  stopped  over  in  Phila- 
delphia and  went  to  hear  Carncross  and  Dixie's 
Minstrels.  They  enjoyed  the  show,  although  the 
night  was  hot. 

The  danger  of  further  invasion  being  averted 
now,  we  were  ordered  home  and  in  due  time  honor- 
ably discharged.  Thus  we  became  again  "  young 
journalists  "  ready  to  support  the  cause  of  the  Union 
with  the  pen  instead  of  the  sword.  We  were  soon 
settled  in  our  new  environment  and  went  to  work 
to  build  up  the  circulation  of  the  paper.  Howard, 
though  not  yet  of  age,  was  fully  competent  for  the 
task  of  editing  the  paper.  It  was  my  duty  to  get 
subscribers,  to  collect  arrearages  from  old  ones,  and 
to  secure  advertisements.  For  these  purposes  I 
travelled  over  the  county  persuading  those  I  met  to 
become  patrons  of  the  Republican.  There  were  no 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Henry  Fords  then,  no  trolley  lines,  and  we  could  not 
afford  a  horse  and  carriage.  So  I  went  by  train  to 
towns  and  villages  and  then  footed  it  through  the 
surrounding  country.  Ours  was  not  the  leading 
paper  of  the  county,  being  more  or  less  of  a  novelty 
in  some  sections.  But  I  brought  in  a  list  of  sub- 
scribers and  some  cash  every  day.  At  other  times 
I  went  to  Philadelphia  and  solicited  advertising;  but 
as  the  merchants  were  so  much  pestered  with  solici- 
tations from  newspaper  men  of  every  degree,  there 
was  not  much  doing  for  me  in  that  field.  However, 
if  I  did  not  receive  many  orders,  I  was  gaining 
valuable  experience. 

The  circulation  soon  began  to  climb  up,  I  had 
better  say  creep  up,  so  that  our  Franklin  press  be- 
came inadequate  for  our  work — that  is,  it  seemed  in- 
adequate, but,  in  fact,  would  have  answered  very 
well  a  year  or  two  longer.  With  the  impatience  of 
youth  we  thought  we  must  have  a  new  press,  if  we 
had  to  borrow  the  money  to  pay  for  it.  We  did 
borrow  three  thousand  dollars  for  the  purpose.  I 
cannot  remember  when  the  borrowed  money  was 
paid  back,  but  we  kept  the  interest  settled  up  some- 
how. Personally,  we  lived  economically,  Howard 
paying  ten  dollars  a  week  for  board  at  a  hotel,  and  I 
six  dollars  at  a  friend's  house.  It  made  us  hop,  skip, 
and  jump  to  meet  our  paper  bills  and  our  payrolls, 
but  we  usually  came  to  time  on  them. 

One  of  the  happiest  moments  of  the  first  year  of 
our  new  enterprise  came  to  us  one  day  on  opening 
the  morning  mail.  We  found,  enclosed  with  a  letter, 
a  check  for  one  hundred  dollars,  signed  by  Jay 
Cooke,  the  banker  and  financial  agent  of  the  gov- 
ernment. Jay  Cooke  owed  us  nothing,  we  had  done 
no  business  with  him,  and  he  did  not  personally 
know  us  nor  we  him.  He  lived  in  our  county,  though, 

92 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

and  doubtless  heard  that  we  were  upholding  the 
Union  cause,  and  wished  to  encourage  us.  We 
thanked  him.  Had  he  known  how  badly  we  needed 
a  financial  boost,  he  might  have  made  out  his  check 
for  one  thousand  dollars.  He  never  sent  us  another 
except  in  payment  for  advertising  government 
loans.  Jay  Cooke  did  great  work  in  helping  Uncle 
Sam  to  raise  money  when  he  sorely  needed  it,  as 
Robert  Morris  did  in  the  Revolution,  and  as  Jacob 
Barker  did  in  the  War  of  1812.  At  the  close  of  the 
war  the  Cooke  firm  failed  in  financing  the  Northern 
Pacific  Railroad.  I  remember  reading  the  brief 
notice  of  inability  to  meet  obligations,  posted  on  the 
front  door  of  Cooke's  office  on  Third  Street  below 
Chestnut.  One  of  the  finest  things  Cooke  ever  did, 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  firm  of  Atkinson  and 
Jenkins,  was  to  mail  that  one  hundred  dollar  check, 
which  fell  like  manna  upon  a  famished  land.  It  was 
a  welcome  recognition  of  the  strenuous  work  the 
Republican  was  doing  to  help  hold  Montgomery  firm 
for  the  Union.  Copperheads  abounded  in  the  county 
and  had  to  be  watched  and  scotched.  A  Copper- 
head was  the  name  applied  to  the  numerous  persons 
who  were  more  pleased  at  hearing  of  Confederate 
than  of  Union  victories.  It  was  Jay  Cooke's  grand- 
son of  the  same  name  who  did  such  fine  work  as 
Food  Administrator  for  Philadelphia  and  vicinity  in 
1917-1918,  during  the  stress  of  the  World  War. 

The  firm  of  Atkinson  and  Jenkins  was  getting 
along  very  well  in  the  spring  of  1863,  having  largely 
increased  the  subscription  and  advertising  patronage 
— and  debts.  By  June  something  occurred  of  a  dis- 
concerting nature.  Robert  E.  Lee  and  his  followers 
had  broken  loose  again  and  were  marching  north 
into  Maryland  and  on  into  Pennsylvania.  Lee  had 
forgotten  about  our  Eleventh  Regiment  that  stood 

93 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

across  his  path  at  Hagerstown  the  summer  before. 
Governor  Curtin  made  another  urgent  call  for  vol- 
unteers to  defend  our  threatened  commonwealth  and 
drive  back  the  invaders  before  they  should 
reach  Philadelphia. 

Again  the  Republican  was  turned  over  to  the  com- 
positors, both  members  of  the  firm  of  Atkinson  and 
Jenkins  volunteering,  this  time  in  the  cavalry  branch 
of  the  service.  Since  father  had  no  horse  to  spare 
from  the  farm  suitable  for  military  purposes,  a  neigh- 
bor of  his  offered  to  lend  me  his  tall,  gawky,  knock- 
kneed,  four-year-old  roan  colt.  I  forget  the  colt's 
name,  but  he  and  I  became  close  companions  and 
good  friends.  I  shipped  him  to  Harrisburg  as 
quickly  as  I  could  obtain  transportation  and  followed 
by  train.  I  became  a  private  in  the  ranks  of  the 
Wissahickon  Cavalry  commanded  by  Captain 
Samuel  Comly,  a  brother  of  Frank  A.  Cojnly,  long 
president  of  the  North  Penn  Railroad  Company. 
Captain  Comly  never  had  any  military  training,  but 
we  felt  that  he  would  get  some  and  were  content 
with  that. 

I  have  a  letter  before  me  now  written  by  Howard 
from  Camp  Curtin,  Harrisburg,  to  his  father  in  Gwyn- 
edd,  and  dated  June  nineteenth,  1863.  Among  other 
things  it  says :  "  We  shall  select  our  officers  this 
evening  and  be  mustered  into  the  United  States  ser- 
vice for  the  emergency  some  time  in  the  morning. 
Very  soon  after  that  I  expect  we  shall  be  sent  down 
the  Cumberland  valley  to  the  scene  of  our  former 
campaigns,  marches,  and  victories.  You  can  gather 
a  better  idea  from  the  daily  papers  of  the  condition 
here  than  I  can  write.  Besides  I  shall  send  a  letter 
to  the  Republican  for  next  week.  Wilmer  came  up 
last  night  with  six  or  seven  men,  but  I  have  per- 
suaded him  to  go  back  in  the  morning  to  take  care 

94 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

of  the  paper  and  this  will  relieve  me  of  a  load  of  care 
and  trouble.  Elijah  Thomas  brought  up  with  him 
twenty  negroes  from  Norristown,  but  General  Couch 
refused  to  receive  them  and  sent  them  back  the  next 
morning.  I  must  say  that  you  must  make  some 
allowances  for  a  slight  enlargement  and  high  color- 
ing when  the  papers  speak  of  our  enthusiasm  and 
anxiety  for  a  fight.  The  militia  are  not  now,  as  they 
never  have  been  in  times  past,  anxious  for  the  dan- 
gers of  the  field,  though  there  is  no  doubt  that  the 
most  of  these  men  will  fight  to  redeem  the  state  from 
the  enemy's  grasp.  Last  night  it  rained  and  our 
enjoyment  was  not  particularly  enhanced  thereby. 
Though  we  kept  reasonably  dry  in  our  tents,  yet  it 
makes  everything  so  damp  and  cold  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  sleep  comfortably.  I  shall  have  to  close  this 
up  as  I  wish  to  send  it  down  by  Wilmer." 

There  was  some  mistake  about  having  persuaded 
me  to  return  to  the  Republican  office,  for  I  did  not 
return  and  I  do  not  remember  any  conversation  with 
Howard  on  the  subject,  though,  of  course,  something 
must  have  been  said.  But  since  I  had  taken  up  sev- 
eral men,  and  my  steed  was  on  the  way,  I  could  not 
very  well  comply  with  Howard's  wish  in  the  matter. 
I  remember  I  was  eager  to  remain  and  share  the  lot 
of  the  others.  The  Elijah  Thomas  spoken  of  was  a 
lawyer  with  offices  both  in  Philadelphia  and  Norris- 
town. He  was  pretty  well  known  as  publisher  of 
Watson's  Annals.  It  was  with  his  family  that  I 
boarded  while  in  Norristown. 

Our  company  was  part  of  the  Nineteenth  Penn- 
sylvania Cavalry,  commanded  by  Colonel  Wynkoop. 
Besides  the  commissioned  officers,  there  were  in  it 
fifty-eight  privates,  five  sergeants,  and  eight  cor- 
porals. We  were  raw  troops,  if  it  is  fair,  under  the 
circumstances,  to  call  us  "  troops."  We  had  our 

95 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

horses,  our  saddles,  our  carbines,  our  sabres,  and  our 
spunk,  but  we  were  never  drilled  until  we  reached 
the  front.  We  broke  camp  at  Harrisburg  and  fol- 
lowed a  plundering  party  of  the  enemy,  who  had 
reached  Carlisle  and  shot  up  part  of  the  town,  down 
the  Cumberland  valley  towards  Chambersburg. 
When  we  reached  Chambersburg  we  found  the 
enemy  had  done  their  work  there.  This  was  Colonel 
Alexander  McClure's  home  town,  and  we  met  the 
colonel  amidst  the  smoking  ruins  of  his  beautiful 
home  and  had  a  long  chat  with  him. 

After  a  few  days  spent  at  Chambersburg,  we 
pushed  on  south,  spending  some  days  at  Greencastle. 
This  was  still  disputed  ground ;  and  when  we 
marched  into  the  place  about  midnight  the  citizens 
were  sure  that  their  town  was  still  under  rebel  rule, 
but  upon  discovering  their  mistake  in  the  morning, 
they  very  promptly  provided  us  with  a  most  excel- 
lent breakfast.  The  chief  trouble  was  in  procuring 
forage  for  our  horses,  the  country  having  been  com- 
pletely drained  of  corn  and  oats  by  the  Confederates. 
Farmers  not  only  had  their  grain  taken  from  them 
but  saw  it  hauled  away  by  their  own  teams.  During 
the  time  we  were  at  Greencastle  we  were  on  duty 
scouting,  picketing,  and  foraging.  We  occasionally 
came  in  contact  with  Confederate  pickets  which  were 
posted  on  all  of  the  roads  leading  to  the  South.  On 
the  sixteenth  we  passed  through  Williamsport,  halt- 
ing on  the  Potomac  at  Falling  Waters.  Here  the 
greater  part  of  the  Confederate  army  had  crossed 
two  days  before,  and  had  left  numbers  of  muskets, 
broken  wagons,  and  disabled  gun  carriages,  some 
of  them  covered  with  the  water  of  the  river  into 
which  they  had  fallen  from  the  pontoons.  The  Con- 
federates had  probably  heard  that  we  were  coming. 
The  road  was  still  strewed  with  carcasses  of  many 

96 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

horses.  On  the  nineteenth,  we  went  into  camp  not 
far  from  Clear  Spring  and  it  was  here  that  we  had 
our  first  opportunity  to  drill. 

On  the  twenty-second  we  were  sent  on  picket 
duty  on  the  Potomac.  I  remember  having  been 
placed  on  guard  one  morning  with  my  knock-kneed 
colt  tethered  to  a  tree.  I  had  to  keep  watch  all  day 
and  all  night  expecting  to  be  relieved  in  the  morning 
as  usual,  but  I  was  not.  Twenty-four  hours  was 
too  long  for  me  to  keep  awake  and  it  was  hard  work. 
No  relief  came  until  afternoon,  but  I  must  not  sleep 
on  my  post  and  must  watch  until  relief  came.  I  re- 
member climbing  up  on  a  fence  so  that  if  I  could 
not  keep  awake  I  would  fall  off  and  be  aroused  by 
the  fall.  Some  owl-eyed  member  of  our  troop  ought 
to  have  been  put  on  such  a  long  watch.  However, 
nothing  serious  happened,  and  no  enemy  appeared. 

When  we  were  not  doing  guard  duty,  we  gal- 
loped about  the  country  and  did  a  great  deal  of  rid- 
ing up  long  lanes  to  farmhouses  in  quest  of  some- 
thing to  eat,  for  we  were  always  hungry.  The 
people,  both  in  our  state  and  over  the  border,  were 
very  friendly  and  never  failed  to  bring  out  some  pie 
or  bread  and  butter  and  apple  butter.  The  hard  tack 
Uncle  Sam  fed  us  on  was  something  of  a  joke.  We 
could  utilize  it  for  food  only  when  softened  in  a  cup 
of  hot  coffee. 

While  our  Wissahickon  Cavalry  boys  were  guard- 
ing the  valley,  my  cousin  Robert  Kenderdine  was 
lying  wounded,  having  been  shot  in  the  hip  in  the 
second  day's  fight  at  Gettysburg.  As  stated  by 
Thaddeus,  Robert's  father  searched  several  days  for 
his  wounded  son  before  hearing  of  his  whereabouts. 
As  soon  as  he  could,  the  anguished  father  reached 
the  scene  of  carnage,  travelling  in  a  rude  convey- 
ance, in  the  darkness,  on  an  early  July  morning, 
7  97 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

accompanied  by  a  strange  and  mysterious  dog  who 
left  him  as  strangely  as  he  came  when  the  mission 
seemed  to  be  over.  After  another  long  three  miles, 
the  father  reached  the  Third  Corps  Hospital,  where 
he  went  from  ward  to  ward  every  day.  Silently  but 
openly,  those  who,  after  life's  fitful  fever  was  over, 
slept  well,  were  now  and  then  borne  away.  At 
last  a  voice  came  across  the  cot-lined  aisles  of  sick 
and  wounded  to  the  travel-wearied  seeker  of  his 
son :'"  Here  I  am,  father!  "  There  was  then  further 
recognition,  next  a  wandering  of  the  mind  of  the 
wounded  soldier  towards  his  home  scenes,  then  a 
repetition  of  the  words  of  command  and  advance 
which  preceded  his  mortal  wound,  and  then  a  mer- 
ciful death.  The  wound  was  not  necessarily  a  fatal 
one,  but  did  not  receive  attention  in  time  to  prevent 
a  fatal  issue.  Robert  was  a  youth  of  uncommon 
talent  and  wrote  poetry  of  no  common  order.  His 
father  was  the  man  who  in  1823,  in  the  upper  room 
of  a  hotel  at  the  Crooked  Billet,  stood  guard  over 
the  kidnappers  who  stole  the  black  man  John,  that 
they  might  not  escape  justice  for  the  offense  com- 
mitted (as  related  in  an  earlier  chapter).  He  was  at 
that  time  about  the  age  of  his  son  Robert  when  the 
latter  surrendered  his  young  life  that  the  Union 
might  be  saved  and  the  slaves  set  free. 

After  Lee  and  his  legions  had  gone  back  to  Vir- 
ginia, followed  by  General  Meade  and  his  army,  and 
all  was  quiet  along  the  Potomac,  our  services  were 
no  longer  needed;  and,  as  we  volunteered  for  the 
emergency  only,  we  marched  back  to  Harrisburg 
and  were  mustered  out.  By  this  time  we  were 
anxious  to  get  back  to  business.  We  loaded  our 
horses  on  a  long  freight  train  bound  for  Philadel- 
phia. We  had  the  felicity,  my  companions  and  my- 
self, of  occupying  one  end  of  the  car  in  which  our 

98 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

horses  were.  The  weather  being  very  hot  and  sultry, 
we  were  much  oppressed  inside  the  car  and  so 
climbed  up  on  the  roof  to  rest  and  sleep.  It  was 
much  cooler  on  top,  though  very  dusty,  and  we  be- 
came covered  with  cinders.  We  had  not  thought  of 
there  being  any  danger,  but  it  turned  out  that  there 
was.  Before  daylight  as  the  long  train  of  freight 
cars  was  passing  Christiana,  an  axle  of  the  very  car 
on  which  we  were  riding  broke.  This  slanted  the 
roof  of  the  car  to  one  side  and  nearly  pitched  us  to 
the  ground.  We  were  dozing  at  the  time,  but  be- 
cause the  train  was  bumping  pretty  badly  over  the 
sleepers,  we  were  aroused  and  at  once  began  to 
scramble  down  the  front  end  of  the  car.  I  do  not 
know  how  my  companions  reached  terra  firma,  but 
I  tumbled  down  just  outside  the  track  and  between 
the  cars,  and  fortunately  escaped  with  nothing  more 
than  some  bruises  over  the  ribs.  The  lunge  of  the 
car  threw  some  of  the  horses  against  the  door  and 
burst  it  open.  Do'wn  the  horses  went  over  a  high 
embankment  into  a  grassy  meadow,  where,  in  the 
morning,  they  were  seen  placidly  grazing  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened.  My  knock-kneed  colt  remained 
in  the  car,  showing  his  good  sense.  Matters  were 
soon  fixed  up  and  we  went  on  our  way  to  Philadel- 
phia where  we  arrived  at  noon.  Then  I  took  the 
train  to  my  Upper  Dublin  home  and  walked  over 
from  the  station.  I  nursed  my  bruises  for  a  week, 
and  then  went  back  to  the  Republican  office  much 
refreshed  from  my  military  picnic. 

I  have  not  much  to  recall  for  the  next  nine 
months  that  would  be  of  interest  to  the  reader,  not 
until  there  came  another  insistent  call  for  volunteers 
for  the  army.  During  this  period  I  joined  the  Union 
League,  a  secret  organization  that  became  quite 
widespread  throughout  the  North  and  the  border 

99 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

states  and,  to  some  extent,  in  sections  where  rebel- 
lion prevailed.  There  were  pass  words,  grips,  coun- 
tersigns, and  pledges  of  fidelity  to  the  Union.  Mem- 
bers were  sworn  in  but  I,  being  a  Friend,  joined  by 
affirmation.  Friends  are  enjoined  "  to  swear  not  at 
all."  People  of  this  generation  have  a  meagre  knowl- 
edge of  this  powerful  organization.  It  never  had 
any  connection  with  the  Union  Leagues — the  social 
clubs — with  which  we  are  now  familiar.  The  mem- 
bership numbered  several  hundred  thousand.  It 
helped  to  differentiate  Union-loving  men  in  the 
North  from  those  who  were  secessionists  openly  or 
secretly ;  but  its  greatest  service  was  rendered  in  the 
border  states  in  enabling  Union  men  to  know  each 
other,  to  stand  together,  protect  their  persons  and 
homes,  and  effectively  to  defend  the  Union  cause  in 
the  most  trying  period  of  the  war.  It  supported 
measures  to  strengthen  the  Union  army,  uphold  the 
draft,  elect  loyal  governors  and  insure  Abraham 
Lincoln  a  second  term. 

It  was  not  hard  to  pull  off  our  editions  on  the 
old  Franklin  press,  but  it  was  weary  work  to  turn 
the  handle  of  our  new  press  for  several  hours  at  a 
time.  It  was  difficult  to  find  a  strong  and  steady 
man  who  would  come  in  twice  a  week  and  measure 
up  to  requirements.  If  he  was  steady  he  lacked 
strength ;  if  strong,  he  was  unsteady.  Howard  and 
I  sidetracked  taking  turns;  we  might  have  run  off 
one  week's  paper,  though  for  personal  reasons  we 
did  not  even  do  that. 

During  the  winter  of  1863-1864  a  German  me- 
chanic (whose  name  I  forget,  but  whom  I  will  call 
Otto)  did  some  work  about  our  press,  and,  noticing 
the  dilemma  we  were  in  for  lack  of  power,  asked  me 
why  we  did  not  put  in  a  wheel  to  be  driven  by  water, 
the  water  to  be  supplied  from  the  city  reservoir.  He 

100 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

assured  me  that  a  scheme  like  that  was  practicable 
and  he  knew  how  it  could  be  done.  As  we  knew  him 
to  be  a  man  of  ingenuity,  we  placed  confidence  in 
him  and  engaged  him  to  make  a  wheel  and  install 
machinery  that  would  afford  sufficient  power  to  drive 
our  press.  So  he  went  to  work  and  by  the  following 
spring  his  wheel  and  likewise  the  necessary  machin- 
ery were  ready  to  be  installed.  I  had  some  trouble 
in  obtaining  permission  from  the  city  council  to  use 
the  water  for  our  purpose,  but  finally  permission 
*vas  granted.  The  contraption  was  set  up  by  the 
side  of  the  stairway  over  which  we  entered  the 
building.  The  machinery  was  adjusted  and  oiled, 
with  belts  extending  to  the  press,  and  the  water 
turned  on,  and  sure  enough,  Otto  was  right — the 
thing  would  go  and  it  did  run  the  press.  But  there 
is  a  sequel  to  this. 

The  spring  and  summer  of  1863  was  an  anxious 
one  for  Union  men,  though  there  was  much  to  en- 
courage them.  From  July  first  to  third,  the  battle 
of  Gettysburg  was  fought  and  won,  and  on  July 
fourth  General  Grant  sent  us  the  joyous  intelligence 
that  Vicksburg  had  been  taken.  This  meant  that 
the  Mississippi  river  would  soon  "  flow  unfettered 
to  the  sea."  On  February  first,  1864,  a  draft  for 
five  hundred  thousand  men  was  ordered.  On  March 
second  Grant  was  appointed  to  command  all  the 
armies  of  the  Union.  This  act  of  the  President  in- 
spired universal  confidence.  Then  soon  came,  as 
expected,  a  forward  march  on  Richmond  and  the 
terrific  "  Battle  of  the  Wilderness."  By  June  fifth 
Grant's  army  was  before  Petersburg,  and  Sherman's 
in  Georgia,  near  Atlanta,  was  preparing  for  the 
march  to  the  sea.  In  July  the  Confederates,  under 
Early,  raided  Maryland  and  Pennsylvania,  and  a 
little  later  set  fire  to  Chambersburg. 

101 

,  451347 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Not  being  quite  satisfied  with  the  way  things 
were  going  and  wishing  to  do  my  part,  I  again  re- 
linquished the  printing  office  with  the  idea  that  it 
was  about  time  to  give  secession  its  quietus.  I  was 
hit  by  the  draft,  but  employed  a  substitute,  which 
cost  six  hundred  dollars.  Then  I  brought  to  Norris- 
town  a  squad  of  Upper  Dublin  farm  boys  full  of 
martial  ardor.  We  all  enlisted  and  were  mustered 
into  the  service  of  the  United  States,  ready  to  obey 
the  orders  of  our  superior  officers.  We  formed  part 
of  Company  G,  One  Hundred  and  Ninety-seventh 
Volunteer  Infantry,  and  went  into  camp  near  Ridge 
Avenue  in  an  open  space  belonging  to  Colonel  Singerly 
of  the  Philadelphia  Record.  In  a  few  weeks  we  were  on 
our  way  south.  From  the  fact  that  I  had  been  in 
the  service  before  and  from  the  partiality  of  my  re- 
cruits, I  was  elected  a  commissioned  officer  and, 
thereafter  until  mustered  out,  wore  the  shoulder 
straps  of  a  second  lieutenant. 

I  fail  to  remember  the  precise  route  we  took  to 
reach  the  place  where  we  were  to  meet  the  Confed- 
erates, but  I  think  we  went  by  the  P.  W.  &  B.  Rail- 
road to  Baltimore.  I  know  we  stopped  in  that  city 
for  one  or  two  nights.  The  first  night  was  spent  in 
the  open  street  market  house ;  the  floor  on  which  we 
tried  to  sleep  was  of  brick,  damp  and  cold,  and  a 
shrill  wind  whistled  over  our  heads.  The  night  was 
long,  but  squealing  rats  made  music  for  us.  They 
pranced  around  all  through  the  night  and  seemed  to 
have  a  more  joyful  time  than  we  had.  The  next  day 
we  went  into  camp  a  few  miles  out  in  the  country 
and  here  we  remained  for,  I  think,  about  two  weeks. 
We  spent  much  of  this  time  in  drilling. 

Of  course,  we  had  no  idea  what  our  destination 
was  to  be,  but  we  wanted  to  get  away  and  do  some- 
thing. The  order  at  last  came.  We  believed  it  to  be 

102 


CIVIL  WAR  RELICS 

The  author  rode  the  saddle  in  the  Gettysburg  campaign,  but  was  not  in 
the  battle;  he  wore  the  sword  and  carried  the  knapsack  in  1864,  affording  an 
opportunity  for  Sherman  to  march  safely  through  Georgia;  the  cap  is  the 
G.  A.  R.  headpiece  such  as  Union  soldiers  wore  from  Bull  Run  to 
Appomattox. 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

the  desire  of  General  Grant  that  our  regiment  should 
take  part  in  the  contemplated  general  forward  march 
aimed  at  the  destruction  of  the  military  power  of  the 
Confederacy.  But  the  general's  plans  seemed  to- 
have  failed  this  time,  and  we  were  instead  ordered 
to  go  at  once  to  Rock  Island,  Illinois,  on  the  Missis- 
sippi river,  opposite  Davenport,  Iowa,  to  take  com- 
mand of  a  prison  camp.  We  gave  nearly  all  our 
time  until  mustered  out  to  this  service. 

We  went  from  Baltimore  on  freight  cars  direct 
to  Chicago.  In  these  cars  there  were  no  mattresses, 
nor  feather  beds,  nor  down  pillows  to  sleep  on,  but 
we  had  soft,  pine  boards  and  were  thankful  they 
were  not  hard  oak.  The  trip  took  two  days  and  it 
was  irksome.  The  track  was  not  so  smooth  as  it  is 
now,  and  we  were  jostled  about  a  good  deal.  On 
arriving  at  Chicago  we  camped  out  on  the  lake  front 
for  one  or  two  days  and  then  took  a  train  for  Rock 
Island  before  we  had  time  to  purchase  any  lake- 
front  lots.  Among  my  recruits  in  Company  G  was 
my  brother  Albert,  then  eighteen  years  of  age. 

The  camp  of  Confederate  prisoners  which  we 
were  to  guard  was  on  a  wooded  island,  a  portion  of 
which  was  covered  with  a  thick  mass  of  underbrush. 
I  had  heard  that  if  one  attempted  to  go  through,  he 
would  be  apt  to  go  around  in  a  circle  and  get  lost. 
The  prisoners  were  in  a  pen  about  eight  hundred 
feet  square,  surrounded  by  an  elevated  platform  on 
which  our  soldiers  kept  guard,  walking  up  and  down 
day  and  night.  The  prisoners  were  housed  in  bar- 
racks in  the  centre  of  the  enclosure  and  were  given 
plenty  of  excellent  food.  They  were  getting  fat.  A 
few  feet  inside  of  our  platform  was  a  slight  fence 
called  the  dead  line.  No  prisoner  was  permitted  to 
cross  that  line.  While  our  regiment  was  on  guard 
no  prisoner  escaped,  none  made  the  attempt  to  do 

103 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

so,  and  none  was  shot.  It  is  a  fact  to  be  noted  that 
prisoners  are  more  afraid  of  boys  than  they  are  of 
men.  Boys  will  shoot  on  less  provocation  and  with 
less  judgment. 

As  I  look  back,  it  seems  probable  that  we  were 
recruited  and  mustered  into  the  service  for  the 
express  purpose  of  relieving  seasoned  veterans  from 
guard  duty  that  they  might  go  to  the  support  of  the 
armies  fighting  under  Sherman  and  Thomas  in  Ten- 
nessee and  Georgia,  and  might  help  to  set  the  stage 
for  the  famous  march  to  the  sea.  Lincoln  knew 
his  business. 

Rock  Island  was  not  a  healthful  place  when  we 
were  there.  Malaria  prevailed  among  the  boys  and 
about  nine  o'clock  each  morning  the  quinine  squad 
would  meander  along,  with  blankets  over  their 
shoulders,  towards  the  doctor's  office.  Later  they 
would  return  at  the  same  slow  rate  of  speed.  My 
brother  Albert  was  one  of  the  victims  of  the  pre- 
vailing malady,  and  was  so  sick  that  I  wrote  to 
father  that  he  had  better  come  and  take  him  home. 
This  father  did. 

Mosquitoes  abounded  throughout  the  island  and 
also  wood-ticks — other  insects,  too.  There  was  a 
small,  brown  insect,  quite  plentiful,  not  visible  in 
the  daytime,  but  much  in  evidence  at  night.  Speak- 
ing correctly  it  was  cimex  lectularius.  It  is  told  that 
some  of  these  insects  have  been  known  to  live  for  six 
years  without  food,  so  it  would  be  just  to  conclude 
that,  after  we  left  the  island  in  November,  they 
stayed  right  on  to  this  day  and  remained  alive — I 
am  judging  from  the  amount  of  food  they  obtained 
from  us  while  we  were  boarding  with  them.  They 
were  pretty  thick  in  the  officers'  barracks  and  were 
even  found  in  our  soup  and  our  pie.  This  I  did  not 
like.  It  was  more  or  less  nauseating.  Another  in- 

104 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

sect  abounded  of  the  genus  pediculum  which  was 
wingless,  had  a  flattened,  almost  transparent  body, 
and  short  legs  which  terminated  in  claws  adapted 
for  taking  hold  of  hair  or  feathers.  These  insects 
were  very  numerous  and  very  industrious.  We  did 
not  call  them  cooties.  They  probably  invaded  our 
soup  and  pies,  too,  but  I  am  not  sure  of  that. 

While  at  Rock  Island  I  voted  for  Abraham 
Lincoln  for  a  second  term. 

During  our  stay  at  Rock  Island,  in  the  early  days 
of  October,  I  received  a  letter  from  Howard  saying 
that  an  offer  had  been  made  by  our  competitors  of 
the  Herald  and  Free  Press  that  we  combine  the  papers. 
Howard  further  offered  to  buy  my  interest  in  the 
Republican.  It  seemed  that  our  estimable  contem- 
poraries had  taken  notice  of  our  efforts  to  push  the 
Republican  to  the  front,  and  had  wisely  determined 
to  invite  my  partner  into  their  concern  so  as  to 
render  his  rare  editorial  ability  available  in  their 
enterprise.  I  fully  recognized  the  fact  that  the  field 
could  more  economically  be  occupied  by  one  paper 
than  two.  As  I  was  offered  twenty-five  hundred 
dollars  for  my  interest  in  the  Republican  I  wrote  an 
acceptance.  I  was  not  willing  to  stand  in  the  way  of  this 
wholesome  change.  Under  date  of  October  seventh 
three  notices  appeared  simultaneously  in  both  papers,  in 
substance  as  follows :  "  The  partnership,  heretofore 
existing  between  Wills  and  Iredell,  is  hereafter  dis- 
solved by  mutual  consent,  signed,  Morgan  R.  Wills 
and  Robert  Iredell,  Jr.  Also  the  partnership,  here- 
tofore existing  in  the  publication  of  the  Republican, 
under  the  name  of  Atkinson  and  Jenkins,  is  here- 
after dissolved  by  mutual  consent,  signed:  Wilmer 
Atkinson  and  Howard  M.  Jenkins.  Also  the  under- 
signed have  associated  together  under  the  name  of 
Wills,  Iredell,  and  Jenkins  for  the  purpose  of  con- 

105 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

tinuing  the  publication  of  the  Herald  and  Free  Press 
and  the  Norristoum  Republican,  this  association  to 
take  effect  on  and  after  October  eighth,  1864,  signed, 
Morgan  R.  Wills,  Robert  Iredell,  Jr.,  and  Howard 
M.  Jenkins."  Young  Iredell  was  with  us  in  the 
Antietam  campaign  and  wanted  to  be  ordered  down 
to  the  battle  in  order  to  give  Lee's  army  a  knockout 
blow.  He  and  I  slept  under  the  same  blanket  in  the 
clover  field. 

There  was  other  startling  intelligence  conveyed 
in  Howard's  letter — that  Otto's  wonderful  water  power 
had  come  to  grief.  When  it  was  turned  on  and  the 
press  began  to  grind  out  the  first  issue,  it  made  a 
terrific  racket  that  so  startled  the  customers  below 
in  the  grocery  store  of  Daniel  Longacre,  our  land- 
lord, that  they  fled  in  terror  fearing  the  building  was 
tumbling  down.  Longacre's  nerves  were  so  shat- 
tered in  consequence  that  he  begged  Howard  to  take 
the  thing  out  and  never  start  it  up  again.  Of  course 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  comply.  It  had  cost 
over  three  hundred  dollars. 

Our  term  of  enlistment  being  up  in  November, 
we  were  ordered  home  and  went  into  camp  on  a  hill 
overlooking  the  Schuylkill  river  opposite  the  spot 
where  Lafayette  crossed  in  his  hurried  retreat  from 
Barren  Hill  in  1777  with  a  large  part  of  the  British 
army  trying  to  surround  and  trap  him.  Here  on 
November  nineteenth  we  were  mustered  out.  Thus 
ended  my  military  service,  such  as  it  was,  in  the  war 
for  the  Union.  I  have  always  been  glad  that  I  never 
killed  anybody  or  even  had  occasion  to  aim  at  any- 
one with  an  intent  to  kill  or  wound.  This  killing  of 
human  beings  is  a  horrible  business.  The  thought 
of  it  is  revolting  to  me.  In  due  time  I  became  a 
member  of  the  G.  A.  R.  and  I  have  a  feeling  of  pride 
in  wearing  the  button.  A  pension  was  granted  me, 

106 


CIVIL  WAR  MEMORIES 

but  I  have  never  felt  that  I  could  receive  it  for  my- 
self, so  I  have  never  kept  a  dollar  of  it,  but  have 
given  it  to  my  family  with  the  stipulation  that  it  all 
be  given  to  some  worthy  cause. 

Now  that  I  have  finished  my  narrative  of  my  in- 
consequential connection  with  the  army  of  the 
Union  and  have  made  mention  of  the  fact  that  I 
was  then,  as  I  am  now,  a  member  of  the  Society  of 
Friends  that  has,  from  the  time  of  its  founder 
George  Fox,  borne  a  testimony  against  war,  I  deem 
it  proper  to  explain  what  seems  to  be  an  inconsist- 
ent attitude.  The  Friends'  Book  of  Discipline  ex- 
horts all  its  members:  "  To  uphold  and  adhere  faith- 
fully to  our  ancient  testimony  against  wars  and 
fightings  and  in  no  way  to  unite  with  any  war-like 
measures,  either  defensive  or  offensive."  It  further 
recommends  to  "  the  deep  attention  of  its  members 
that  they  be  religiously  guarded  against  approving 
of,  or  participating  in,  military  operations  or  paying 
taxes  levied  for  the  express  purpose  of  war." 

I  am  deeply  impressed  with  the  truths  of  this 
testimony  against  war,  and  yet  there  are  times  when 
it  seems  necessary  to  engage  in  a  forceful  defense  of 
sacred  rights,  when  such  rights  are  imperilled — as  they 
were  from  1861  to  1865  by  those  who  would  extend 
the  system  of  human  slavery  throughout  all  the 
nation.  That  was  indeed  a  time  of  trial.  Elderly 
Friends  had  been  for  years  helping  slaves  to  escape 
from  their  masters ;  they  held  a  militant  attitude  to- 
wards the  system  of  slavery,  vehemently  condemn- 
ing slaveholders  in  season  and  out  of  season ;  and, 
when  war  was  forced  upon  the  free  states  and 
Lincoln's  Proclamation  of  Emancipation  was  issued, 
what  else  could  they  do  but  invest  in  Chase's  Five- 
twenty  and  Seven-thirty  Bonds  for  financing  the 
war,  and  at  least  not  discourage  their  sons  from 

107 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

going  to  fight?  Friends  in  the  World  War  did  not 
find  it  so  compelling  to  engage  in  actual  war,  for 
there  was  a  call  for  peaceable  service  in  binding  up 
the  wounds  of  stricken  Europe  and  helping  to  re- 
store the  homes  of  the  victims  of  the  most  cruel  war 
of  history.  That  was  a  noble  service  nobly  performed. 
As  to  the  part  taken  by  me  in  the  Civil  War,  I 
may  say  that  I  regret  that  I  was  compelled  to  act 
contrary  to  the  Friends'  Book  of  Discipline.  I  would 
gladly  have  arbitrated  the  questions  in  dispute  with 
Jefferson  Davis,  but  he  was  not  disposed  to  this 
method  of  settling  the  differences.  The  most  I  can 
say  in  the  way  of  apology  and  in  extenuation  is  that 
I  will  never  go  to  war  again. 


108 


CHAPTER  X 
DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

THE  removal  to  Wilmington  to  start  a  daily  paper 
in  a  community  which  was  wholly  new  to  us  and  to 
which  we  were  strangers  marks  a  distinct  epoch  in 
the  lives  of  two  ambitious  journalists,  four  years 
from  their  fathers'  farms  in  another  state.  At  the 
time  we  had  definitely  decided  upon  the  enterprise, 
I  was  twenty-six  years  old  and  my  partner  two  years 
my  junior. .  We  had  no  capital  except  what  we  bor- 
rowed, and  not  much  of  that,  but  we  seemed  to  have 
plenty  of  ginger.  Neither  of  us  knew  an  individual 
in  Wilmington.  As  early  as  convenient  we  went 
down  to  find  boarding  places,  to  look  over  the  field, 
and  to  give  our  enterprise  a  start.  I  think  this  was 
in  August. 

We  rented  the  second  floor  of  a  building  next 
door  to  the  city  hall,  in  which  councils  met  and . 
where  magistrates  sat  to  dispense  and  disperse  jus- 
tice. The  location  was  desirable  and  as  good  as  any 
that  was  available.  There  we  installed  a  new  steam- 
power  press  capable  of  running  off  our  daily  editions. 
We  made  provision  for  a  future  large  gain 
in  circulation. 

The  next  thing  was  to  canvass  the  town  for  sub- 
scribers. It  was  my  province  to  do  this.  Even  be- 
fore I  had  fairly  started,  I  learned  that  a  canvass  for 
subscribers  to  a  new  daily  paper  had  been  made  by 
a  Yankee  man  whose  name  was  Senter.  I  never 
knew  who  sent  him  nor  why  he  was  sent.  He  had 
been  at  work  for  three  months,  and  had  obtained 
about  one  thousand  names.  We  had  never  counted 

109 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

on  such  competition  and  had  made  no  provision  for 
it.  It  was  our  plan  to  introduce  daily  journalism 
into  the  State  of  Delaware,  and  here  was  a  man  who 
had  got  three  months'  start  of  us  with  the  idea.  Have 
you  never  noticed  that,  whenever  a  bright  idea  conies 
into  your  head,  some  other  fellow  has  the  same 
thought  burrowing  in  his  cranium?  How  many  an 
inventor  has  worked  out  an  idea  (which  was  to 
revolutionize  the  world  and  make  the  inventor  rich), 
and  presented  it  to  mankind'  only  to  find  that  some 
other  ingenious  fellow  had  gone  a  few  lengths  ahead? 
The  news  that  Senter  occupied  the  field  ahead  of 
us  was  indeed  disconcerting.  While  there  was  room 
in  Wilmington  for  one  daily  paper  there  was  not 
room  for  two.  We  soon  learned  that  the  Yankee 
man  had  no  money  of  his  own  with  which  to  found  a 
daily  journal,  nor  could  he  obtain  capital  from  any 
source.  In  fact,  while  the  people  of  the  town  were 
anxious  to  have  a  daily  started,  few  believed  that 
Senter  was  the  right  man  for  the  enterprise,  because 
he  did  not  inspire  confidence  as  a  person  of  capacity 
in  that  line.  This  proposal  to  establish  a  daily  had 
been  for  many  weeks  the  talk  of  the  town,  and  when 
it  was  learned  that  two  young  journalists  had  come 
down  from  Philadelphia  bent  on  that  mission,  the 
way  opened  for  our  procedure.  But  we  did  not  think 
it  fair  to  crowd  the  man  out  after  all  his  labor  in 
canvassing,  so  we  proposed  to  buy  his  subscription 
list.  We  offered  him  one  thousand  dollars  to  vacate 
and  turn  over  his  lists  to  us;  and  this,  I  think,  he 
was  glad  to  do.  I  took  him  up  to  Philadelphia  and 
handed  him  one  thousand  dollars  at  the  Farmers' 
and  Mechanics'  Bank  on  Chestnut  Street  below  Fifth 
and  bade  him  good-bye.  We  never  saw  or  heard  of 
him  more.  Had  we  ignored  him  and  ruthlessly  tried 
to  freeze  him  out  without  any  compensation,  we 

no 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

should  have  felt  that  our  enterprise  had  started 
under  a  cloud,  and  this  we  could  not  afford  or  allow. 
If  not  always  just,  I  always  try  to  be. 

We  had  other  troubles  and  plenty  of  them.  For 
one  thing  we  were  pinched  for  capital  and  the  only 
financial  aid  we  could  count  on  at  that  time  was  that 
of  the  same  generous  parents  whose  credit  enabled 
us  to  engage  in  business  in  Norristown.  We  tried 
to  get  along  with  as  little  financial  help  as  possible. 
The  business  men  of  the  city  showed  their  friendli- 
ness from  the  first.  Everybody  seemed  interested  in 
our  enterprise.  The  people  wanted  a  daily  paper 
and  stood  ready  to  support  one.  We,  for  our  part, 
soon  got  Delawarized  and  felt  at  home.  We  decided 
to  call  our  paper  the  Wilmington  Daily  Commercial, 
and  made  preparations  to  issue  the  first  number  on 
October  first,  1866. 

On  that  day,  in  the  afternoon,  the  first  daily  ever 
published  in  the  State  of  Delaware  was  printed  on 
our  new  press,  sold  at  two  cents  a  copy  on  the 
streets  of  Wilmington  and  delivered  to  subscribers 
at  twelve  cents  a  week  all  over  the  city.  Any  good 
guesser  would  not  go  far  afield  in  guessing  that 
about  that  time  the  new  firm  of  Jenkins  and  Atkinson 
was  very  busy.  It  continued  to  be  so  for  the  next 
ten  years. 

Following  are  the  brief  words  which  appeared 
on  the  editorial  page  of  the  first  issue  of  the  first 
daily  newspaper  ever  published  in  the  State 
of  Delaware : 

"  We  commence,  this  day,  the  publication  of  the 
Wilmington  Daily  Commercial.  We  thereby  fill  what 
we  believe  to  have  been  a  long-existing  deficiency, 
and  supply  a  demand  which  the  great  interests  of 
this  growing  city  have  now  made  imperative. 

"  We  enter  upon  the  field  with  the  intention  to 
in 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

spare  no  pains  nor  labor  in  doing  full  justice  to  its 
requirements.  We  aim  to  publish 

"  i.  A  Newspaper; 

"  2.  A  Live  Newspaper  ; 

"  3.  An  outspoken  and  honest  Newspaper,  inde- 
pendent of  trammels  or  influence  which  would  im- 
pair our  efficiency  as  public  journalists,  or  injure 
our  value  as  faithful  laborers  in  the  cause  of 
Human  Progress. 

"  Wherever  there  is  work  to  be  performed  in  ad- 
vancing the  business  enterprises  of  our  fellow  citi- 
zens, and  pushing  forward  the  common  interests  of 
the  community,  we  ask  to  be  called  upon.  Our  hand 
and  voice  shall  not  be  withheld. 

"  To  the  many  friends  who  have  so  cordially  patron- 
ized the  outset  of  our  undertaking,  we  return  our 
sincere  thanks,  trusting  that  the  future  will  justify 
their  action." 

At  the  time  we  went  into  the  business  in  Wilming- 
ton, the  city  had  a  population  of  thirty  thousand,  or 
said  it  had.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  people  of  a 
town  nearly  always  exaggerate  when  they  speak  of 
its  population.  Why,  I  don't  know.  We  were  told 
also  that  Philadelphia  was  twenty-eight  miles  away. 
I  think  this  was  correct  then,  but  Philadelphia  is 
considerably  nearer  now.  Both  cities  have  ex- 
panded their  outskirts  and  thus  have  come  closer  to 
each  other.  Wilmington  for  the  most  part  is  located 
between  the  Christiana  and  the  Brandywine  creeks, 
just  before  they  unite  and  flow  into  the  Delaware 
river.  The  principal  railroad  is  the  P.  W.  &  B. 
which  extends  from  Philadelphia  to  Baltimore.  The 
Delaware  Railroad,  extending  south  from  end  to  end 
of  the  little  state  and  into  Maryland,  connects  with  the 
P.  W.  &  B.  at  Wilmington.  Both  roads  now  belong 
to  the  Pennsylvania  system.  In  the  Civil  War  the 

112 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

P.  W.  &  B.  was  the  great  artery  of  travel  between 
New  England,  New  York,  and  eastern  Pennsylvania 
and  the  South.  Over  this  line  the  Union  soldiers 
poured  in  a  constant  stream  on  their  mission  to  save 
the  Union  from  those  who  would  destroy  it. 

A  WORD  ABOUT  WILMINGTON 

The  main  street  of  the  city  is  called  Market  Street 
and,  in  1866  and  for  several  years  thereafter,  the 
farmers  came  into  town  on  Tuesday  and  Friday 
mornings  and  lined  their  wagons  up  for  half  a  mile 
along  this  street,  with  the  rear  of  the  wagons  at  the 
curb.  By  one  or  two  o'clock  they  would  open  out 
their  tempting  loads  of  produce  fresh  from  the  farm. 
This  produce-bazaar  remained  open  until  night-fall 
and  then  in  the  morning  reopened,  and  the  farmers 
continued  selling  until  noon  or  a  little  later.  Usu- 
ally the  wagons  were  manned  by  women  ;  sometimes 
the  husbands  would  come  along  to  sell  and  to  care 
for  the  teams.  They  sold  eggs  for  twenty  cents  a 
dozen,  none  of  which  came  from  cold  storage,  and 
they  sold  butter  at  about  thirty  cents  a  pound.  The 
butter  was  just  as  good  as  that  which  is  now  being 
sold  at  one  dollar.  There  was  nothing  in  the  eating 
line,  produced  on  farms  within  ten  miles  of  the  city, 
that  was  not  displayed  in  this  market  and  sold  at  a 
price  that  would  make  a  present-day  housewife 
dance  for  joy. 

There  were  also  two  market  houses,  one  extend- 
ing for  a  block  on  Second  Street,  the  other  for  three 
or  four  blocks  along  Fourth  Street.  They  were 
much  frequented  by  a  well-known  magistrate,  re- 
markable for  his  great  physical  corporation  and 
genial  disposition.  He  was  an  old-timer.  I  don't 
know  what  his  weight  was,  but  it  may  have  been 
over  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  He  adminis- 

8  "3 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

tered  the  law  with  fairness,  and  many  cases  were 
brought  to  him  for  adjudication.  He  was  wonderful 
as  a  banqueter,  for  he  could  dispose  of  as  much  food 
as  any  other  citizen,  though  it  was  said  and  believed 
by  some,  that  a  very  slender  man  of  about  the  same 
age  could  go  him  some  better  at  the  banquet  table. 
The  question  would  sometimes  be  put  to  a  test  and 
the  victory,  as  likely  as  not,  would  be  declared  in 
favor  of  the  slim  man,  of  whom  it  was  said  that  he 
began  at  his  boots  to  fill  up  and  continued  as  long  as 
it  was  necessary  to  vanquish  his  rival.  Both  of  these 
were  well-known  characters  in  the  town.  They  are 
long  since  dead.  Peace  to  their  ashes! 

Wilmington  was  at  that  time  a  great  manufac- 
turing centre.  Ships,  railroad  cars,  locomotives,  car 
wheels,  shoes,  paper,  carriages  and  leather  were 
manufactured  there.  A  few  miles  up  the  Brandy- 
wine  stream  were  located  du  Font's  great  powder 
works,  established  before  the  Revolutionary  War. 
There  were  in  the  city  five  national  banks  and  sev- 
eral trust  companies,  but  there  was  no  good  hotel. 
To-day  there  is  one  hotel,  the  du  Pont,  than  which 
there  is  no  larger  or  finer  in  any  city  of  equal  size  in 
the  country.  It  is  owned  by  the  powder  men.  Many 
of  the  offices  of  professional  and  business  men  occupy 
a  section  of  the  vast  structure. 

There  was  a  daily  line  of  steamboats  to  Phila- 
delphia all  through  the  spring,  summer  and  fall.  In 
winter,  the  Christiana  being  frozen  over,  the  boats 
were  laid  by.  I  do  not  remember  the  names  of  all 
the  boats,  but  I  recall  that  one,  the  Elisa  Hancock, 
sometimes  favored  us  with  reduced  fares.  When 
the  Hancock  was  put  on,  the  round-trip  tickets  to 
Philadelphia  were  reduced  from  fifty  cents  to  twenty- 
five  cents.  Then  it  was  that  the  women  of  the  town 
were  full  of  joy.  They  filled  both  boats  every  day 

114 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

going-  to  Philadelphia  to  shop,  and  going  for  a  day's 
ride  on  the  river.  Many  Philadelphians,  on  the  other 
hand,  would  come  down  for  an  outing  in  one  of  the 
boats  and  return  in  the  evening  by  train.  But  the 
merchants  of  Wilmington  did  not  favor  low  fares 
that  would  carry  their  customers  to  a  neighboring 
city.  It  was  an  interesting  sight — the  women  com- 
ing off  the  boats  in  the  evenings  loaded  down  with 
goods  bought  in  the  Philadelphia  stores.  It  is  said 
that  sometimes  a  wash-boiler  formed  part  of 
the  exhibit. 

At  the  time  we  located  in  Wilmington,  the 
famous  abolitionist,  Thomas  Garrett,  still  lived 
there.  He  was  on  the  main  line  of  the  underground 
railroad,  and  was  its  most  active  and  enterprising 
agent.  He  was  directly  instrumental  in  helping 
hundreds  of  fugitive  slaves  on  the  way  to  freedom. 
He  carried  on  with  the  utmost  fearlessness,  and  sev- 
eral times  got  into  the  clutches  of  the  law.  He  was 
often  fined  large  suras,  but  these  did  not  budge  him. 
It  is  said  of  him  that  he  lost  his  fortune  when  sixty 
years  old,  started  again  in  business  and  continued 
until  he  had  acquired  another  fortune,  and  died 
well  off. 

As  I  went  to  Wilmington  in  the  summer  of  1866, 
one  year  after  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  the  city 
was  full  of  returned  soldiers.  There  were  hundreds 
of  privates  and  a  number  of  officers — colonels, 
majors,  captains,  lieutenants  and  non-coms.  They 
were  settling  themselves  in  business  and  in  the  pro- 
fessions and  came  to  do  a  full  share,  if  not  more  than 
a  full  share,  in  ruling  the  town. 

There  was  a  negro  quarter  where  most  of  the 
negroes  lived,  many  of  whom  were  intelligent,  in- 
dustrious and  worthy  citizens.  When  it  came  to 
election  time,  after  the  vote  was  granted  them,  they 

115 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

only  knew  one  party  to  vote  for,  and  that  was  the 
one  to  which  Abraham  Lincoln  had  belonged.  One 
year  I  was  nominated  and  elected  to  the  school  board 
of  my  district,  and  this  was  accomplished  by  the  aid 
of  the  colored  vote.  I  served  one  term  only,  for  I 
was  never  a  success  either  in  climbing  into  office  or 
staying  in.  Delaware  had  two  United  States 
senators  and  one  congressman,  and  one  governor; 
Wilmington  had  a  mayor.  No  one  ever  suggested 
me  for  any  one  of  these  offices,  or  if  they  did  I  never 
heard  of  it.  My  partner  attended  to  the  politics  of 
the  firm,  and  was  quite  active,  always  on  the  side  of 
those  who  wanted  to  improve  conditions.  This  side 
was  usually  in  the  minority. 

There  were  a  great  many  Quakers  in  Wilming- 
ton and  they  formed  probably  one  of  the  most  influ- 
ential classes  in  the  town.  They  were  leaders  in 
manufacturing  and  in  mercantile  lines,  and  predomi- 
nated in  the  banking  business.  Of  course,  being 
members  of  the  sect,  we  were  soon  enabled  to  feel 
at  home  in  our  new  environment. 

No  more  intelligent,  progressive  and  sociably 
agreeable  people  than  the  citizens  of  Wilmington, 
when  we  went  there,  could  be  found  anywhere  in 
America.  After  ten  years  of  contact  with  the  young 
journalists  from  Philadelphia  they  may  have  deteri- 
orated. I  forbear  expressing  any  opinion  as  to  that. 

MARRIAGE 

After  the  urge  of  getting  our  enterprise  well 
started,  I  found  that  there  was  something  lacking. 
I  had  a  feeling  of  loneliness.  My  thoughts  often 
turned  to  the  gentle  lady  I  had  left  in  Philadelphia.  I 
now  occasionally  visited  at  grandmother  Ellis's,  but 
that  was  not  like  going  six  or  seven  times  a  week. 
Especially  on  Sunday,  when  not  busy  at  the  office, 

116 


FOUR  GENERATIONS 

Reading  from  left  to  right,  Anna  Allen,  my  future  wife,  at  five  years  of 
age;  "  Grandmother  Ellis, "  Elizabeth  J.  Allen,  Elizabeth  J.  Woolley. 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

I  missed  those  visits.  I  had  not  inquired  of  the 
lady's  parents  whether  I  might  have  her  for  keeps  or 
not,  but  simply  assumed  that  they  were  willing. 
Anxious  I  knew  they  were  not,  for  she  was  the  only 
child  left  at  home,  both  boys  having  gone  away  sev- 
eral months  before.  Besides,  she  was  the  only 
daughter.  There  must  be  a  streak  of  meanness 
somewhere  in  any  man  who  will  take  away  an  only 
daughter  to  a  distant  city  with  the  intention  of  re- 
taining her  and  abiding  with  her  indefinitely. 

I  braced  up  and  resolved  to  know  the  worst  or 
the  best  and  to  ask  father  and  mother  Allen  if  Anna 
and  I  might  soon  be  married.  Father  assured  me 
that  I  was  acceptable,  but  asked  whether  we  had  not 
better  wait  long  enough  to  see  how  our  new  enter- 
prise turned  out.  I  inwardly  felt  that  that  was  a 
sensible  inquiry.  But,  nevertheless,  without  delay 
we  fixed  the  time  for  our  wedding  in  the  following 
month  of  November.  Sometimes  one  can  hear  words 
spoken  that  make  no  impression,  and  this  was  one 
of  the  times.  Could  there  be  any  doubt  of  the 
success  of  the  Wilmington  Daily  Commercial?  Oh, 
no !  So  cards  and  invitations  were  engraved  and  sent 
out  to  our  near  relatives  announcing  that  the  pro- 
posed wedding  would  take  place  on  November 
twenty-eighth,  1866,  less  than  two  months  after  the 
first  copy  of  the  Commercial  had  been  issued. 

The  ceremony  was  to  take  place  in  the  evening 
at  seven-thirty  o'clock.  The  morning  was  wet,  but 
towards  evening  the  weather  cleared  and  grew  cold. 
Before  noon  I  went  to  the  barber's  and  had  my  hair 
cut.  At  that  time  I  had  more  hair  on  my  head  than 
I  have  now,  and  it  was  not  of  so  light  a  shade.  The 
ceremony  was  to  be  performed  according  to  the 
order  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  We  had  passed 
Meeting  before  that.  I  mean  that  at  our  request  a 

117 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

committee  of  the  Meeting  had  been  appointed  to 
inquire  into  our  freedom  from  other  engagements, 
as  to  whether  we  were  of  suitable  age  and  had  our 
parents'  consent,  and  as  to  whether  our  characters 
were  such  as  would  justify  the  proposed  union.  The 
committee  reported  favorably  to  the  Meeting,  the 
proposal  was  approved  and  a  clerk  wrote  a  minute  to 
that  effect.  All  proposals  for  the  marriage  of 
Friends  are  subject  to  such  searching  inquiries. 
We  had  no  minister  nor  mayor  nor  magistrate  pres- 
ent, that  not  being  deemed  necessary  in  marriages 
of  Friends.  Instead,  four  members  of  our  Meeting, 
two  of  each  sex,  called  overseers,  were  present  to 
see  that  all  went  off  according  to  the  good  order  of 
the  Society.  They  were  to  make  a  report  to  the 
Meeting,  of  which  report  a  minute  was  made.  Be- 
sides the  overseers,  there  were  six  aides  who  were 
then  called  waiters.  The  overseers,  the  waiters,  the 
relatives  and  the  bride  and  bridegroom  being  present, 
the  reading  of  the  Certificate  of  Marriage  was  next 
in  order.  I  give  the  above  details  because  many 
readers  of  my  narrative  may  not  know  how  Quakers 
are  married  and  the  account  may,  therefore,  be 
of  interest. 

CERTIFICATE  OF  MARRIAGE 

OF 

WILMER  ATKINSON  AND  ANNA  ALLEN 

WHEREAS  WILMER  ATKINSON  of  the  City  of 
Wilmington  in  the  State  of  Delaware,  Son  of  Thomas 
Atkinson  of  Upper  Dublin  Township,  Montgomery 
County,  and  State  of  Pennsylvania,  and  Hannah  his 
wife:  And  ANNA  ALLEN,  Daughter  of  Samuel 
Allen  of  Philadelphia,  in  the  State  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  Elizabeth  J.  his  wife,  having  proposed  Marriage 
with  each  other  before  a  Monthly  Meeting  of  the 

ill 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

Religious  Society  of  Friends  held  at  Green  Street  in 
the  City  of  Philadelphia,  aforesaid,  and  having  con- 
sent of  parents  their  said  proposal  of  Marriage  was 
allowed  of  by  said  Meeting. 

NOW  THESE  ARE  TO  CERTIFY  whom  it 
may  concern,  That  for  the  full  accomplishment  of 
their  said  proposal  this  Twenty-eighth  day  of  the 
Eleventh  month,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  One  thou- 
sand eight  hundred  and  Sixty-six  they,  the  said 
WILMER  ATKINSON  &  ANNA  ALLEN,  ap- 
peared in  a  Meeting  of  relatives  and  friends  at  the 
house  of  Samuel  Allen,  aforesaid,  and  the  said 
WILMER  ATKINSON  taking  the  said  ANNA 
ALLEN  by  the  hand,  did,  on  this  solemn  occasion, 
openly  declare,  that  he  took  her,  the  said  ANNA 
ALLEN,  to  be  his  Wife,  promising,  with  DIVINE 
ASSISTANCE,  to  be  unto  her  a  loving  and  faithful 
HUSBAND  until  death  should  separate  them,  and 
then,  the  said  ANNA  ALLEN  did  in  like  manner 
declare  that  she  took  him,  the  said  WILMER 
ATKINSON,  to  be  her  Husband,  promising  with 
DIVINE  ASSISTANCE  to  be  unto  him  a  loving 
and  faithful  Wife  until  death  should  separate  them. 
AND  MOREOVER  they,  the  said  WILMER 
ATKINSON  &  ANNA  ALLEN  (she  according  to 
the  custom  of  Marriage  assuming  the  name  of  her 
Husband),  did,  as  a  further  confirmation  thereof, 
then  and  there  to  these  present  set  their  hands. 

WILMER  ATKINSON, 
ANNA  A.  ATKINSON. 

AND  WE  whose  names  are  also  hereunto  sub- 
scribed, being  present  at  the  solemnization  of  the 
said  Marriage  and  subscription,  have  as  Witnesses 
thereto,  set  our  hands,  the  day  and  year  above  written. 

(Signed  by  all  present.) 
119 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

I  think  my  readers  will  agree  with  me  that  the 
knot  was  in  this  way  effectually  tied — not  simply  a 
bow  knot,  but  a  knot  meant  never  to  come  loose. 

The  proceedings  as  described  above  were  pre- 
scribed by  the  founders  of  the  Society  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago,  and  are  substantially  the  same 
now  as  in  the  beginning.  It  must  not  be  inferred 
that  I  consider  this  method  of  procedure  better  than 
that  where  ministers  in  churches  officiate ;  I  am  only 
giving  information.  Marriage  services  in  churches 
are  impressive  and  most  beautiful  and  beyond 
just  criticism. 

It  is  the  custom  in  these  days  to  punish  the  bride 
with  costly  presents  in  which  many  articles  are  dup- 
licated several  times  over.  It  was  not  so  then.  Anna 
was  favored  in  receiving  only  a  few  inexpensive,  use- 
ful gifts,  all  of  which  could  be  placed  at  one  time  on 
a  moderate-sized  table.  All  were  such  as  she  could 
use,  and  all  but  four  have  been  in  use  for  over  fifty 
years.  That  seems  better  than  to  have  nine  presents 
out  of  every  ten  never  used,  or  sent  to  a  storage 
house  for  safe  keeping,  or  stolen  by  burglars. 

We  had  no  extensive  wedding  journey  planned 
but  remained  at  the  house  until  next  day.  Then 
we  went,  with  grandmother  Ellis,  father  and  mother 
Allen  and  the  waiters,  to  Upper  Dublin  to  visit  my 
parents.  We  stayed  there  until  next  morning.  This 
was  all  the  wedding  journey  we  had  until  two  or 
three  years  later  when  we  paid  a  flying  visit 
to  Washington. 

Anna  and  I  proceeded  the  second  day  after  our 
marriage  to  Wilmington  where  we  took  up  our  resi- 
dence for  ten  years.  Howard  had  married  my  sister, 
Mary  Anna,  a  year  earlier,  and  at  this  time  was 
keeping  house  on  Market  Street,  in  a  dwelling  which 
stood  on  the  spot  where  now  is  the  du  Pont  Hotel. 

120 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

The  house  was  of  brick  of  the  Philadelphia  pattern, 
but  its  walls  had  been  badly  shattered  by  the  famous 
powder  wagon  explosion  which  occurred  a  few  years 
before.  Enormous  cracks  had  been  made  in  the 
walls  which  let  in  vast  volumes  of  cold  air,  for  it 
was  now  winter,  and  a  cold  winter.  Our  room  was 
on  the  second  floor  front.  The  biggest  crack  was  in 
our  room  and  we  had  only  a  little  wood  stove.  When 
the  weather  was  warm  we  had  no  trouble,  but  when 
it  was  cold  we  shivered.  Just  who  started  the  fires 
on  early,  cold  mornings  I  forget,  but  I  do  know  that 
Anna  had  her  feet  frosted  that  winter.  It  has  never 
been  authoritatively  decided  whose  place  it  is  to  get 
up  first  on  chilly  mornings ;  but  until  such  decision  is 
rendered  it  is  well  to  let  the  wife  perform  that  func- 
tion, especially  if  she  insists  upon  doing  so.  It  is  so 
cozy  and  warm  in  bed  that  it  is  hard  for  a  husband 
to  have  to  get  out  on  the  cold  floor  before  he  has  to. 
Woman  is  the  queen  of  the  home. 

I  was  not  long  in  finding  out  that  I  had  made  a 
good  selection  of  a  partner.  In  fact,  I  knew  what  I 
was  about  from  the  start.  I  have  always  felicitated 
myself  on  my  good  judgment  in  this  matter,  if  the 
reader  will  pardon  my  vanity.  I  confess  that  the 
other  sex  has  no  monopoly  of  this  vice,  notwith- 
standing that  ribbons,  laces,  feathers,  face  powders, 
silk  stockings,  mirrors  and  high-heeled  shoes  are  so 
much  in  evidence  in  their  case. 

I  may  mention  here  that  Charles  F.  Jenkins,  my 
nephew,  my  sister  Mary  Anna's  oldest  son,  and  my 
successor  as  editor  of  the  Farm  Journal,  learned  to 
walk  in  this  powder-shattered  house.  When  he 
found  out  for  the  first  time  that  he  could  do  it,  he 
had  made  a  wonderful  discovery,  and  Anna  saw  him 
take  that  first  step.  Rising  to  his  feet  and  seizing  a 
blue  tumbler  containing  water,  he  marched  across 

121 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

the  room  and  poured  the  water  into  a  scrap  basket. 
That  was  the  first  time  he  walked  and  the  first  time 
he  poured  water  into  a  scrap  basket.  Now  he  has 
beside  his  desk  in  the  Farm  Journal  office  a  very  large 
scrap  basket  into  which  he  dumps  all  anonymous 
and  watery  contributions. 

Later  I  will  tell  about  our  going  to  housekeeping 
and  of  our  wedding  journey  to  Washington. 

BACK  AGAIN  TO  WORK 

Our  Wilmington  enterprise  was  started  at  an  un- 
favorable time,  for  the  trade  of  the  country  was  far 
from  being  on  a  specie  basis.  I  do  not  remember 
what  the  discount  on  paper  money  was,  but,  two 
years  before,  a  gold  dollar  had  been  worth  two 
paper  dollars.  So  in  October,  1866,  we  were  facing 
a  gradual  but  very  slow  and  wearing  return  to  specie 
payment.  This  process  of  getting  down  upon  solid 
ground  continued  during  all  the  ten  years  that  I  did 
business  in  Wilmington.  The  Black  Friday  panic 
in  Wall  Street,  New  York,  took  place  in  September, 
1869;  this  was  followed  by  a  general  financial  panic 
in  September,  1873 ;  and  it  was  not  until  January  first, 
1879,  two  years  after  I  left  Wilmington,  that  specie 
payment  was  resumed.  Fortunes  in  business  were 
not  easily  made  during  that  period.  It  required 
steady  nerves  to  stand  up  cheerfully  against  falling 
prices  and  restricted  business,  but  I  do  not  recall 
that  we  were  worried  about  conditions.  We  must 
have  been  always  hoping  and  expecting  that  the  next 
year  would  show  a  change  for  the  better. 

In  two  years  we  were  compelled  to  seek  other 
quarters  for  our  publication  ;  and,  after  some  search, 
we  found  a  corner  property  than  which  there  was 
none  in  the  city  better  for  our  purpose.  This  we 
bought  for  twelve  thousand  dollars,  but  I  cannot 

122 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

remember  that  we  paid  cash  for  it ;  indeed,  we  could 
not  have  done  so,  for  there  was  a  large  mortgage 
against  it  when  we  returned  to  Philadelphia.  After 
moving,  we  considerably  enlarged  our  job-printing 
facilities.  We  were  then  prepared  to  do  as  prompt 
and  artistic  printing  as  any  other  office  in  town. 
This  branch  of  the  business  expanded  rapidly,  and 
there  was  profit  in  it.  We  soon  began  to  publish  a 
city  directory,  the  only  one,  and  we  continued  this 
until  the  end  of  our  term  at  Wilmington.  There  was 
profit  in  the  directory,  too.  I  remember  that  I  did 
the  first  convassing  of  the  city  myself  in  order  to 
learn  how  it  could  best  be  done  so  I  might  instruct 
others.  Following  the  city  directory,  we  published 
a  state  directory,  showing  the  places  of  residence 
and  the  post  office  addresses  of  all  inhabitants  of 
the  state. 

In  order  to  extend  our  daily  circulation  down  the 
state  we  bought  the  right  to  sell  newspapers  on  the 
trains  of  the  Delaware  Railroad.  This  concession 
included  the  privilege  of  selling  magazines,  books, 
confections  and  peanuts  from  Wilmington  down  to 
the  tip  end  of  the  state.  There  was  more  profit  in 
the  peanut  trade  than  in  all  the  others  combined. 
Our  boy  sold  a  bushel  or  two  on  every  trip.  By  this 
method  we  introduced  the  Commercial  into  all  the 
towns  along  the  line,  but  we  could  not  reach  the 
country  people  with  our  daily,  so  we  soon  began  the 
publication  of  a  weekly  which  we  called  the  Delaware 
Tribune.  I  put  canvassers  all  over  the  state  and  soon 
obtained  a  fair  circulation.  I  have  before  me  a  re- 
ceipt given  to  H.  C.  Lamed,  dated  November  twenty- 
seventh,  1868,  "  for  six  months'  subscription  to  the 
Delaware  Tribune,  $i."  At  the  top  of  the  billhead 
I  read : 

123 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

"  The  Daily  Commercial,  the  only  daily  in  this  city 
and  state." 

"  The  Delaware  Tribune  will  soon  reach  a  circula- 
tion of  5000  copies." 

"  One  of  the  best  appointed  printing  offices  in  the 
county." 

The  promise  that  the  Delaware  Tribune's  circula- 
tion would  soon  reach  five  thousand  was  too  highly 
colored.  It  never  did. 

Our  printing  office,  however,  remained  at  the 
head  of  the  printing  business  in  Wilmington.  Some- 
time in  the  sixties  a  grand  opera  house  was  built  in 
Wilmington,  and  thereafter  we  had  plays  and  operas 
almost  every  night  during  the  winter  season.  The 
foreman  of  our  printing  office,  Frank  C.  Ferris,  ob- 
tained a  diagram  of  the  seats  of  the  house,  and  the 
printing  of  numbered  tickets  for  entertainments  of 
all  kinds  then  came  our  way.  So  satisfactory  was 
this  service  to  theatre  managers  that  they  urged  us 
to  obtain  diagrams  of  theatres  all  over  the  country 
and  promised  to  send  orders  for  tickets  wherever 
they  went.  This  did  result  as  promised  and  there 
was  large  profit  in  the  work.  In  order  to  do  this 
work  economically,  Ferris — a  very  ingenious  fellow — 
invented  a  special  numbering  press  for  the  purpose. 
Ferris  later  became  a  member  of  our  firm,  purchas- 
ing part  or  all  of  my  interest,  and  giving  a  life  insur- 
ance policy  as  security.  Most  of  the  cash  he  had  was 
needed  in  the  further  development  of  the  business. 

Our  new  office  was  at  the  corner  of  Fifth  and 
Market  Streets.  There  was  a  large  store  on  the 
Market  Street  front  which  we  rented  out.  We  occu- 
pied the  corner  with  frontage  of  about  ten  feet  on 
Market  Street.  The  presses  were  in  the  cellar  around 
on  Fifth  Street.  Soon  after  we  moved  there  I  had  an 
enormous  sign  painted  with  the  legend  "  Wilmington 

124 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

Daily  Commercial."  It  must  have  been  five  feet  wide 
and  forty  feet  long  and  was  fastened  along  at  the  top 
of  the  building  where  it  was  exposed  to  tornadoes 
that  passed  over  our  city,  so  that  I  was  always  afraid 
it  would  blow  down.  It  was  well  braced  when 
put  up,  but  every  once  in  a  while  I  would  have  it 
newly  anchored,  so  as  to  quiet  apprehension  as  to  its 
safety  and  as  to  the  security  of  the  crowd  of  humanity 
passing  below.  I  never  knew  of  its  blowing  down, 
but  as  it  was  put  up  over  fifty  years  ago  I  suppose  it 
has  gone  the  way  most  big  signs  go. 

If  the  reader  supposes  that  we  had  an  easy  time 
floating  our  enterprise  through  all  financial  breakers 
between  1866  and  1877  he  has  the  privilege  of  an- 
other guess.  To  start  with  we  had  scarcely  any 
capital  except  what  we  had  borrowed,  and  there  was 
constant  demand  for  increased  funds  to  carry  on,  to 
meet  competition,  and  to  push  forward  our  enter- 
prise. Having  become  well  known  to  the  leading 
business  men  of  the  town,  who  wanted  their  one 
daily  paper  to  prosper,  we  never  asked  for  financial 
assistance  without  its  being  obtained  from  some 
friendly  source.  There  were  five  national  banks  in 
the  town  and  I  had  notes  running  in  every  one  of 
them,  more  than  one  in  some.  Our  company's 
promises  to  pay  were  always  made  good ;  no  note  the 
firm  signed  ever  went  to  protest,  but  we  did  not 
depend  on  the  Wilmington  banks.  I  borrowed 
money  from  the  Consolidation  National  Bank  of 
Philadelphia  and  the  National  Bank  of  German- 
town  ;  nor  was  this  all  the  borrowing  I  did,  for  a 
number  of  merchants  on  Market  Street  from  Second 
to  Ninth  loaned  us  cash  to  meet  our  obligations  in 
banks,  and  to  pay  salaries  and  paper  bills.  I  had  not 
fewer  than  twenty  of  these  generous  friends  on  my 
list.  Looking  back  to  those  borrowing  times  it 

125 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

seems  almost  a  miracle  that  the  credit  of  the  firm  of 
Jenkins  and  Atkinson  remained  sound  during  the 
ten  years  we  were  in  Wilmington.  Yet  it  did.  We 
were  never  near  the  breaking  point  or,  if  we  were, 
we  did  not  know  it.  We  had  lots  of  good  fun  as  we 
went  along.  Why  need  we  worry? 

I  recall  that  the  Commercial,  soon  after  its  incep- 
tion, began  to  print  editorials  against  that  archaic 
Delaware  institution,  the  whipping-post,  for  at  every 
session  of  the  county  court  held  at  Newcastle,  ex- 
tending as  far  back  as  the  memory  of  the  oldest 
inhabitant  goes,  the  jail  yard  was  the  scene  of  a 
public  whipping  of  convicted  criminals.  The  sheriff 
with  the  cat-o'-nine-tails  did  the  whipping.  I  saw 
this  performance  once,  when  the  victims  were 
negroes.  Their  backs  were  bared  and  the  number 
of  strokes  were  laid  on  as  the  law  required  and  the 
court  ordered.  The  strokes  seemed  to  be  very  light, 
yet  they  made  visible  welts  in  the  skin  and  some- 
times blood  flowed.  Preceding  an  occasion  of  this 
kind,  Howard  invited  a  number  of  reporters  down 
from  Philadelphia  to  witness  the  spectacle.  Several 
came ;  among  them,  I  remember,  was  Charles  Heber 
Clark,  who  became  quite  famous  as  tariff  champion 
and  author  of  humorous  books.  The  Philadelphia 
scribes  came  to  our  office  for  a  chat,  and  then  we  all 
went  over  to  Newcastle  together.  This  whipping 
was  fully  written  up  in  our  paper  and  in  all  the 
Philadelphia  dailies  represented.  We  were  in  hopes 
that  the  barbaric  custom  would  give  way  under  these 
assaults.  When  it  did  not,  we  kept  on  pounding. 
But  the  people  of  Delaware  are  deeply  impressed 
with  the  idea  that,  being  so  near  large  cities,  the 
state  might  be  invaded  and  overrun  by  criminals 
were  it  not  for  the  terror  the  cat-o'-nine-tails  in- 
spires. The  whipping-post  remains  an  institution  of 

126 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

the  "  Blue  Hen's  Chicken  "  (a  pet  name  for  Dela- 
ware), of  which  many  of  the  people  are  proud.  Not 
all  citizens  approve,  but  enough  do  to  insure 
its  continuance. 

Besides  the  two  railroads  which  received  earlier 
mention — the  P.  W.  &  B.  and  the  Delaware — two  new 
ones  were  built;  one,  the  Wilmington  and  Reading, 
running  northeast  to  Reading,  Pennsylvania,  and 
the  other,  the  Wilmington  and  Western,  extending 
to  Landenburg  on  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad.  The 
Commercial  was  an  active,  and  I  believe  an  effective, 
factor  in  helping  to  put  through  these  undertakings. 
We  wanted  the  roads  built.  The  lines  stretched  out 
through  a  rich  farming  country  and  joined  with  the 
Pennsylvania  and  Reading  systems,  and  we  knew 
that  our  city  needed  them  for  full  development.  It 
was  fine  to  be  able  to  help  as  we  -did  in  all  such 
enterprises  that  would  benefit  our  adopted  city. 

In  my  youth  I  was  not  infrequently  afflicted  with 
boils  and  carbuncles.  I  never  enjoyed  them,  al- 
though I  was  told  that  they  were  useful  as  blood 
purifiers.  I  had  a  pretty  bad  one  after  we  moved 
over  to  Fifth  and  Market  Streets.  It  was  on  my 
face,  and  visible  to  callers  and  passers-by  even  at  a 
distance.  As  I  stuck  to  my  office  work  and  as  I  was 
on  a  very  public  corner,  I  had  many  inquiries  about 
my  affliction — some  serious,  some  jocose,  but  all  to 
be  answered  in  some  way.  "What's  the  matter?" 
was  fired  at  me  forty  times  in  the  course  of  the 
morning  and  as  many  times  in  the  afternoon.  Busi- 
ness men  on  the  way  down  town  in  the  mornings 
would  stop  and  talk  about  my  carbuncle  and  stop 
again  in  the  evening  to  take  a  look  at  me  and  ascer- 
tain how  I  was  faring,  and  perhaps  crack  a  few  jokes 
by  way  of  alleviating  my  pain.  Bank  clerks  would 
stop  on  the  way  to  bank  and  converse  on  the  topic. 

127 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

One  person  would  tell  his  own  experience  with  a 
similar  face  decoration,  another  would  tell  of  a 
cousin  who  died  from  a  facial  excrescence  like  mine. 
I  was  many  times  warned  to  be  careful,  was  many 
times  advised  to  go  see  Doctor  Blank,  and  to  go 
home  and  go  to  bed.  In  the  meantime,  I  was  suf- 
fering more  than  I  was  willing  to  admit.  That  car- 
buncle of  mine  became  the  sensation  of  the  town 
and  to  add  to  the  public  interest  I  wrote  about  it  in 
the  Commercial,  telling  my  experiences  with  those  who 
called  on  me  and  the  things  they  said,  both  of  a 
soothing  and  of  an  alarming  nature.  I  recounted 
humorous  remarks  made  to  me  and  the  variety  of 
admonition  extended.  I  enjoyed  being  the  centre  of 
so  much  public  concern,  and  I  said  that  when  the 
next  carbuncle  should  invade  my  person,  no  matter 
where  located,  I  would  issue  an  invitation  for  all 
citizens  to  drop  in  for  a  talk.  The  abscess  healed 
and  the  excitement  died  down  shortly  after  that. 

I  never  took  any  part  in  the  political  end  of  the 
Commercial's  business.  Howard  attended  to  that.  In 
all  American  cities  there  exist  political  cliques,  con- 
cerned sometimes  for  the  advancement  of  whole- 
some public  measures,  but  always  interested  in  the 
division  of  public  offices  after  the  turnover  at  an 
election.  Delawareans  seemed  to  be  thus  interested 
in  political  affairs,  and  naturally  the  only  daily  paper 
was  often  plunged  into  the  boiling  political  pot. 
Howard  was  honest,  fearless  and  strenuous;  so,  of 
course,  the  Commercial  did  not  hesitate  to  act  with 
one  of  the  factions.  Life's  noted  writer,  "  E.  S.  M.," 
designates  those  who  are  trying  to  secure  improve- 
ments in  the  body  politic  as  Celestials,  and  those 
who  are  principally  after  the  loaves  and  fishes  as 
Carnals.  Howard  naturally  belonged  with  the 
Celestial  group,  and  for  this  reason  was  brought 

128 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

into  frequent  political  conflicts.  The  rows  always 
eventuated  when  nominations  were  to  be  made  for 
public  offices,  and  grew  fiercer  still  as  soon  as  the 
election  was  over.  We  had  more  interest  in  the 
nomination  and  election  of  sheriff  than  of  any  other 
official,  because  of  the  patronage  at  his  disposal,  but 
there  was  nothing  of  real  benefit  in  it;  even  when 
we  had  landed  our  man  the  advertising  went  to  the 
weekly  papers  where  it  had  always  gone  from 
time  immemorial. 

Whenever  there  was  a  turnover  at  Washington 
and  at  Dover  there  would  be  occasion  for  com- 
mittees of  both  "  Celestials  "  and  "  Carnals  "  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  seat  of  power  in  the  hope  of  securing  men 
of  their  stripe  for  the  federal  and  state  offices.  The 
"  Celestials  "  usually  got  left,  since  the  "  Carnals  " 
were  more  numerous,  more  sly,  had  greater  experi- 
ence, and  they  were  better  posted  in  the  game.  There 
was  a  man  down  at  Dover  named  Fisher  who  seemed 
to  have  more  influence  than  anybody  else.  I  sup- 
pose he  was  the  state  boss,  holding,  or  having  held, 
the  office  of  judge.  His  Wilmington  counterpart 
was  a  foxy  man,  without  education  or  polish,  who 
usually  controlled  the  game  of  politics  in  the  north 
end  of  the  state.  Conflict  with  him  was  an  exhibi- 
tion of  courage  of  a  high  order,  and  of  unflinching 
purpose  to  serve  the  cause  of  progress  on  the  part 
of  the  editor  of  the  Commercial,  but  it  was  not  a  good 
way  to  get  business,  for  it  interfered  with  the  patron- 
age that  otherwise  would  have  come  our  way  and 
gave  it  to  our  neighbors,  the  old  semi-weekly  Press. 

It  is  related  that,  before  our  appearance  at  Wil- 
mington, a  delegation  of  Wilmington  politicians  went 
down  to  Washington  to  see  Lincoln  about  some 
offices  that  were  supposed  to  be  at  the  President's 
disposal.  Introducing  the  delegation  to  the  Presi- 

Q  129 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

dent,  the  leader  of  the  delegation  said :  "  Mr.  Presi- 
dent, these  gentlemen  are  from  Wilmington  and 
they  are  the  heavy  men  of  the  state,  I  trust  you  will 

favor  them  by  the  appointment  of ."    Lincoln 

asked :  "  Did  you  say  that  these  gentlemen  are  the 
heavy  men  of  your  state?  If  so,  are  you  not  afraid 
that  while  they  are  here  the  lower  end  of  the  state 
will  tilt  up?"  All  saw  the  humor  of  Lincoln's 
question;  but  the  answer  to  the  appeal  of  the 
"  heavy'"  men  from  Wilmington  was :  "  Better  go 
and  see  Chase." 

After  we  had  been  in  Wilmington  five  years,  and 
had  placed  our  enterprise  on  what  seemed  to  us  to 
be  a  sure  basis  of  future  prosperity,  something  hap- 
pened. It  was  at  this  point  that  our  financial  troubles 
and  anxieties  described  above  began.  For  the  five 
years  our  business  had  developed  according  to  our 
design  and  our  hopes,  and  we  looked  for  smoother 
sailing  ahead.  What  happened  was  this :  the  young 
man,  who  had  been  our  city  editor  from  the  start, 
informed  Howard  that  he  intended  to  resign  and 
establish  another  paper  in  the  city.  His  name  was 
William  T.  Croasdale.  When  Senter  was  canvass- 
ing the  town  for  subscribers,  as  heretofore  related, 
Croasdale  stood  by  and  waited  until  the  Yankee 
man  should  accomplish  his  purpose  of  starting  a 
daily.  He  himself  did  no  canvassing,  but  a  good 
deal  of  talking  around  town  in  favor  of  the  enter- 
prise. He  was  to  edit  Senter's  paper.  As  soon  as 
Jenkins  and  Atkinson  appeared  on  the  scene, 
Croasdale  perceived  that  here  was  a  better  oppor- 
tunity of  becoming  an  editor,  so  he  turned  in  his 
support  to  us.  He  was  at  this  time  not  over  twenty- 
one  years  of  age.  His  hair  was  red  and  curly,  his 
complexion  rosy,  and  his  intellect  keen.  He  was  a 
vivacious  talker  and  everybody  knew  him.  He  had 

130 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

a  quick  temper,  and  made  enemies  as  well  as  friends. 
He  was  frank  and  said  what  he  thought  under  all 
circumstances.  He  developed  into  a  first-class  re- 
porter, and  during  the  five  years  while  he  was  our 
city  editor  he  made  his  mark. 

The  fact  that  he  had  no  money  with  which  to 
start  a  daily  paper  didn't  bother  him.  There  are 
always  many  wealthy  men  in  every  city  as  large  as 
Wilmington  who  like  to  have  a  share  in  the  owner- 
ship of  newspapers ;  always  some  who  like  better  to 
own  one  outright,  the  object  being  to  increase  and 
bulwark  their  personal,  social  and  political  influences 
in  the  community.  It  was  so  in  Wilmington.  It 
was  not  difficult,  therefore,  for  Croasdale  to  obtain 
money  for  his  enterprise.  In  due  time  the  paper 
came  out.  The  Commercial,  like  most  dailies  in  cities 
of  the  size  of  Wilmington,  at  that  time  was  sold  at 
two  cents  a  copy ;  the  price  of  Croasdale's  paper,  the 
Every  Evening,  was  one  cent.  To  complicate  the 
situation  further,  each  of  the  old  twice-a-week 
papers  which  had  not  cut  a  very  large  figure  after 
the  Commercial  came  to  town,  started  penny  papers. 
Thus  Wilmington  instead  of  having  no  daily  as  in 
1865,  now  had  five.  Of  course,  we  had  to  put  our 
price  down  with  the  others  to  meet  the  suddenly 
developed  competition.  At  that  time,  considering 
the  price  of  paper,  ink  and  labor,  two  cents  a  copy 
was  none  too  much.  The  Every  Evening  was  able 
to  print  more  matter  than  we  could ;  in  fact,  almost 
as  much  as  all  the  three  other  new  penny  papers 
combined.  Its  ability  to  do  this  was  founded  upon 
the  fact  that  all  financial  deficiencies  could  be  made 
up  by  further  drafts  upon  the  exchequer  of  a  mil- 
lionaire manufacturer  who  backed  the  enterprise. 
Now  we  entered  into  a  period  of  five  years  in  which 
strenuous  work  was  necessary  to  maintain  our  posi- 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

tion  against  such  competition.  Besides  the  hatching 
out  of  a  whole  brood  of  penny  dailies,  there  came  to 
town  a  cut-price  job-printer,  a  mason,  and  "  a  hail- 
fellow-well-met,"  who  established  a  large  printing 
plant  and  pushed  for  business,  which  he  obtained  to 
a  great  extent,  and  in  which  he  took  some  of  our 
best  customers.  He,  like  Croasdale,  was  backed  by 
some  friends  who  had  plenty  of  money.  While  the 
other  new  dailies  were  financially  well  established, 
the  owners  of  the  Commercial  were  not.  We  had 
borrowed  money  at  the  start  on  which  we  were  pay- 
ing interest,  and  we  were  bound  in  honor  to  protect 
from  loss  those  who  loaned  us  the  money.  Thus, 
the  Commercial,  after  five  years  sailing  in  smooth 
waters,  was  to  encounter  for  the  next  five  years 
rough  seas,  but  we  went  ahead  as  though  nothing 
had  happened.  We  made  the  best  of  it.  I  suppose 
if  we  had  been  in  the  fifties  instead  of  the  early 
thirties  we  would  have  felt  like  quitting  and  seeking 
other  openings  elsewhere  for  business.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  that  is  what  I  finally  did,  moving  to 
Philadelphia  in  1877  and  founding  the  Farm  Journal 
in  the  same  year.  It  is  said  that  competition  is  the 
life  of  trade,  and  maybe  it  is;  but  we  would  have 
preferred  to  continue  the  publication  of  the  Commer- 
cial without  any  competition  whatever. 

Croasdale  finally  retired  from  the  Every  Evening, 
and  the  paper  went,  of  course,  to  the  millionaire  who 
pumped  cash  into  the  project  at  the  start.  At  the 
end  of  five  years  the  Every  Evening  and  Commercial 
were  consolidated,  Jenkins  and  Atkinson  selling  out 
and  retiring  from  the  field.  Croasdale  left  Wil- 
mington for  New  York,  where  he  joined  Henry 
George's  propaganda,  and  after  George's  death  be- 
came the  leader  of  the  single  tax  movement.  He 
soon  followed  George  to  the  "  bourne  from  which 

132 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

no  traveler  returns."  His  millionaire  Wilmington 
backer  also  has  passed  over.  With  a  population 
now  of  seventy-five  thousand,  three  times  what  it 
had  fifty  years  ago,  Wilmington  now  has  but  two 
evening  papers  and  they  fully  cover  the  field. 

I  seem  to  have  had  the  reputation,  when  a  boy 
on  our  Upper  Dublin  farm,  of  being  afflicted  with  a 
multiplicity  of  notions  peculiar  to  myself.  I  judge 
this  from  the  fact  that  I  often  heard  the  remark 
"  that's  one  of  Wilmer's  notions."  It  may  be  a  fine 
thing  for  a  boy  to  have  that  kind  of  reputation,  for 
at  least  it  shows  that  he  thinks  and  is  alive.  I  re- 
member that  my  notions  were  often  squelched  by 
my  family.  I  suppose  the  proposal  to  leave  the  farm 
and  go  into  the  publication  of  a  county  newspaper 
was  a  notion,  also  the  later  resolution  to  go  down  to 
Wilmington  and  start  a  daily,  also  to  go  back  to  Phila- 
delphia and  found  a  farm  paper.  These,  I  suppose, 
might  be  correctly  designated  as  three  of  "  Wilmer's 
peculiar  notions."  I  confess  that  I  was  a  person  whose 
head  was  full  of  notions  of  one  kind  or  another. 

An  important  part  of  my  function  as  business 
manager  of  the  Commercial  was  to  secure  advertise- 
ments from  business  houses  in  Philadelphia,  so  I 
frequently  went  up  for  the  day  to  solicit  contracts. 
I  was  sometimes  successful,  sometimes  not.  It  was 
work  that  went  against  the  grain.  I  might  say  I 
heartily  disliked  it,  yet  it  seemed  necessary,  at  least 
my  partner  thought  so,  and  I  wished  to  please  him 
in  the  matter.  One  of  the  most  valuable  lessons  I 
learned  at  Wilmington  was  that  such  work  was  con- 
trary to  my  constitution,  so  that,  when  I  came  to 
found  the  Farm  Journal,  I  cut  it  out  altogether.  Later 
I  will  have  more  to  say  on  this  subject. 

When  I  went  to  work  on  the  Wilmington  Daily 
Commercial,  I  soon  discovered  that  I  had  the  habit 

133 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

of  starting  something  and,  before  finishing  it,  start- 
ing something  else  which,  too,  might  be  laid  aside 
in  order  to  begin  another  task.  Upon  reflection  I 
concluded  that  my  habit  was  not  a  good  one,  and  I 
set  about  correcting  it.  To  do  this  I  wrote  a  short 
motto  and  tacked  it  up  on  my  desk  where  I  could 
not  fail  to  see  it  every  time  I  looked  up.  It  was  this  : 
"  Finish  what  you  have  on  hand."  For  me  it  turned 
out  to  be  an  excellent  motto  which  eventually  cured 
me  of  the  habit  of  starting  too  many  things  and  leav- 
ing them  all  unfinished,  while  I  undertook  some- 
thing else.  To  the  rigid  adherence  to  the  simple 
motto,  I  owe  much  of  my  success  in  my  business  life. 
I  offer  it  to  any  reader  who  needs  to  be  taught  the 
habit  of  not  having  numerous  irons  in  the  fire  at  one 
time,  and  none  of  them  quite  hot  enough  to  weld 
into  something  worth  while. 

WE  BEGIN  HOUSEKEEPING 

On  an  earlier  page  I  informed  the  reader  that 
Anna  and  I,  when  we  went  to  Wilmington  the  sec- 
ond day  after  our  marriage,  began  to  board  with  my 
sister,  Mary  Anna,  wife  of  Howard,  my  partner. 
We  lived  with  them  through  the  winter,  and  in  the 
spring  we  rented  a  lovely  two-story  cottage  on  Third 
Street  near  Washington.  The  cottage  was  owned 
by  Captain  Tom  Johnson,  foreman  of  the  great  ship- 
building plant  of  Harlan  Hollingsworth  Company. 
The  captain  with  his  wife  and  daughter  lived  in  the 
house  adjoining.  They  were  good  neighbors. 

When  Anna  and  I  set  up  housekeeping,  we  did 
not  have  very  much  furniture;  and  when  father 
Atkinson  came  down  to  visit  us  a  few  days  after  we 
moved  and  to  look  us  over,  he  found  that  our  dining- 
room  table  was  a  packing  box.  He  could  not  stand 

134 


OUR  WEDDING  GIFTS 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

for  that,  so  he  slipped  off  down  town  and  bought  a 
table  for  us  which  we  still  have  as  a  memento  of  his 
kindness.  What  became  of  the  packing  box  de- 
ponent sayeth  not.  Here  we  brought  our  wedding 
presents.  When  we  came  to  have  our  Golden  Wed- 
ding anniversary  in  1916,  in  our  Philadelphia  home, 
the  wedding  presents  were  spread  out  on  father 
Atkinson's  table  to  the  view  of  guests. 

After  one  year  in  the  Johnson  cottage  we  had  to 
leave,  because  Captain  Johnson  wanted  it  for  his 
daughter  who  had  become  a  bride.  We  then  rented 
a  three-story  house  on  the  other  side  of  the  town, 
opposite  a  cemetery.  We  always  liked  cheerful 
views.  Here  we  remained  for  a  year,  and  then  were 
persuaded  to  buy  a  two-story  house  on  Tatnall 
Street,  a  new  part  of  the  town  for  us.  We  were 
sampling  locations  to  see  which  we  would  like  best. 
The  family  of  Stones  lived  next  door.  You  would 
have  to  travel  far  to  find  more  agreeable  and  con- 
genial neighbors  than  the  Stones.  Kate,  the  wife, 
was  Boston  born,  and  accordingly,  true  to  form,  sent 
us  in  a  pot  of  beans  about  once  a  week.  Both  she 
and  her  husband  proved  to  be  wholesome  and  pro- 
gressive, and  an  inspiration  to  every  high  and 
honorable  endeavor. 

George  W.  Stone,  who  came  to  Wilmington  at 
the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  was  an  asset  of  the  first 
order.  He  had  been  in  the  navy.  He  was  of  about 
my  age,  and  there  was  not  a  handsomer  man  in 
Wilmington.  He  had  a  mind  of  no  common  order. 
He  was  remarkable  for  his  frankness.  Indeed,  he 
blurted  out  what  he  thought  on  any  question  that 
came  up ;  and  there  was  no  deception  in  him.  We 
all  knew  where  he  stood.  He  was  interested  in 
politics,  and  in  clean  politics.  He  was  also  greatly 
interested  in  the  advancement  of  Wilmington  in  a 

135 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

business  way.  He  came  to  Wilmington  as  a  breath 
of  fresh  mountain  air  on  a  sultry  day  in  the  valley. 
We  sometimes  hear  of  the  "  grand  old  man  "  of  a 
town ;  Stone  was  the  "  grand  young  man  "  of  the 
town.  His  influence  was  thrown  on  the  right  side 
of  every  question  that  came  up.  For  a  time  he  was 
secretary  of  the  Wilmington  Board  of  Trade.  He 
had  a  fault — it  was  the  same  as  mine — his  mind  was 
replete  with  numerous  notions.  He  ought  to  have 
been  sent  to  Congress  or  the  Senate  in  place  of  much 
inferior  men  who  were  sent  there. 

He  and  his  good  wife,  Kate,  had  three  lusty 
sons,  Seymour,  Ralph  and  Frederick.  Seymour  is 
now  engaged  in  social  service  in  Boston ;  Ralph,  an 
old  schoolmate  and  chum  of  Governor  Sproul,  of 
Pennsylvania,  is  at  the  head  of  a  large  trust  company 
in  Detroit,  Michigan ;  and  Frederick  is  president  of 
one  of  the  leading  trust  companies  of  Wilmington. 
All  are  making  good. 

The  father  and  mother  removed  to  California 
several  years  ago ;  and  Kate  recently  passed  away  at 
about  the  age  of  eighty.  George  is  now  one  of  five 
members  of  the  State  Board  of  Education  of  California. 

While  we  were  still  living  in  the  Third  Street 
house,  Anna  came  to  the  office  one  afternoon,  as  she 
often  did,  to  walk  home  with  me.  It  was  then  she 
first  met  this  George  W.  Stone,  who  was  soon  to  be- 
come our  neighbor,  and  one  of  the  best  friends  we 
ever  had  in  Wilmington.  The  Commercial  had  not 
then  moved,  but  was  still  next  door  to  the  city  hall. 
On  this  occasion  George  asked :  "  How  proud  are 
you?  "  This  was  to  introduce  a  real  estate  proposi- 
tion in  which  he,  being  a  member  of  the  real  estate 
firm  of  M.  M.  Child  and  Company,  was  interested. 
The  company  had  built  a  row  of  houses  on  Tatnall 
Street  above  Twelfth.  He  and  his  wife,  Kate,  had 

136 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

taken  an  end  house  and  wanted  us  to  buy  the  house 
next  door  which  was  part  of  the  same  structure. 
Our  number  was  1205  Tatnall  Street.  Here  we  lived 
for  three  years.  When  our  friends,  the  Stones,  moved 
away  we  soon  flitted  to  Greenbank,  not  because  we 
were  "  too  proud  "  to  stay  where  we  were,  but  be- 
cause we  wanted  to  get  out  into  the  country. 

Anna  recalls  going-  with  Mrs.  Stone  to  make  a 
call  on  Frank  Webb's  wife.  On  that  occasion  Kate 
wore  a  Dolly  Varden  dress,  an  unique  affair,  which 
was  then  just  coming  into  vogue.  Just  how  much 
sensation  was  created  by  the  couple  I  do  not  know, 
but  I  know  it  was  considerable.  After  we  moved  to 
Greenbank  we  invited  the  Stones  out  to  spend  two 
or  three  weeks  with  us  one  summer.  I  do  not  re- 
member how  long  they  stayed,  but  they  brought 
their  beds  with  them.  I  suppose  they  sized  us  up 
and  concluded  that  we  had  not  beds  enough.  I 
remember  playing  a  game  of  croquet  with  George 
during  the  visit,  but  probably  we  played  more  than 
one  game.  Modesty  forbids  me  ever  to  tell  who 
won.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  have  good  neighbors 
with  whom  you  cannot  quarrel,  even  if  you  are  so 
inclined.  The  Stones  and  Atkinsons  never  quarreled; 
they  had  no  need  to.  Only  kindness  and  good  will 
were  practised  towards  each  other.  The  women 
were  true  models  to  be  patterned  after.  The  only 
thing  our  next  door  neighbors  ever  did  that  was 
not  strictly  proper  was  to  move  away  from  Tatnall 
Street  before  we  did. 

Charles,  the  eldest  son  of  Howard,  recalls  that 
there  was  a  newsboys'  strike,  and  that  his  father 
sent  him  out  to  sell  Commercials.  He  went  and  did 
the  best  he  could,  which  was  not  very  well,  since  he 
was  scared  at  his  own  voice  when  he  called  out.  He 
was  a  little  fellow  then.  In  due  time  he  passed 

i37 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Stone's  store  on  Water  Street.  George  Stone,  who 
was  standing  at  the  front  door,  not  knowing  who 
the  boy  was,  said :  "  Say,  boy !  Why  don't  you  call 
out?"  Then  he  said:  "I  want  a  paper."  I  guess 
this  was  the  only  paper  that  Charles  sold,  though  he 
doesn't  remember — the  one  thing  he  is  sure  of  is 
that  he  was  much  encouraged  and  cheered  by  selling 
that  one  paper. 

About  the  time  when  we  moved  to  Tatnall  Street, 
we  went  on  a  wedding  journey  to  Washington. 
Among  the  things  we  did  there  was  to  call  on  Gen- 
eral Grant  at  the  War  Department.  He  had  not  yet 
been  elected  President,  but  he  had  been  made  Lieu- 
tenant-General  of  the  army.  In  an  outer  room  was 
Secretary  Stanton  who  shook  hands  with  us,  kindly 
directing  us  into  the  room  where  General  Grant  was. 
We  entered  and  found  the  great  general  smoking 
in  one  corner  of  the  room.  Seeing  us  at  the  door  he 
arose  and  came  forward,  greeting  us  cordially,  then 
he  turned  and  introduced  us  to  General  Sherman, 
who  was  smoking  in  another  corner  of  the  room.  It 
was  quite  a  treat  for  us  to  see  these  three  great  men, 
Stanton,  Grant  and  Sherman.  In  the  evening  we 
went  to  the  theatre,  and  there  was  General  Grant, 
who  nodded  to  us — or  at  least  we  thought  he  did.  I 
don't  remember  other  incidents  of  our  Washington 
trip.  We  stayed  only  a  few  days. 

We  lived  in  the  Tatnall  Street  house  about  three 
years,  and  then  sold  out,  purchasing  a  lot  at  Green- 
bank,  three  miles  from  Wilmington  upon  the  Wil- 
mington and  Western  railroad.  On  this  lot  we  built  a 
frame  cottage,  and  planted  all  the  available  land 
with  pears,  peaches  and  small  fruits,  and  set  out  a 
big  grass  lawn.  We  started  to  build  in  March,  and 
after  we  got  the  frame  up  a  high  March  wind  came 
along  from  over  the  hill  and  blew  the  frame-work 

138 


OUR  FIRST  HOME  AT  GREENBANK,  DELAWARE 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

down.  We  lived  in  the  new  house  for  two  or  three 
years,  but  we  hungered  for  more  land,  so  that  we 
might  be  able  to  keep  a  cow,  pigs  and  chickens  and 
have  a  larger  lawn.  Therefore,  we  sold  the  place 
and  bought  three  adjoining  acres  on  which  we  built 
a  house  with  a  tower.  We  called  our  new  home 
Maple  Hill.  We  had  a  cow  stable  built  on  the  new 
place  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  away,  where  we  in- 
stalled a  fresh  cow  so  we  could  have  an  abundance 
of  milk  for  the  family  and  some  to  give  to  our 
neighbors  who  had  none. 

It  was  wife's  function  not  only  to  prepare  break- 
fast and  supper,  but  to  see  that  the  cow,  pigs  and 
chickens  were  fed  at  noon,  while  I  was  in  town. 
Sometimes  the  snow  drifts  were  deep  and  the  wind 
howled  on  that  hill  between  the  cottage  and  the 
stable,  and  then  there  was  trouble,  as  wife 
well  remembers. 

I,  myself,  attended  to  the  milking;  Anna,  being 
city  bred,  had  never  learned  the  art.  Likewise  I 
attended  to  the  care  of  the  cow,  watering  and  feed- 
ing her  before  breakfast  and  again  at  night  after  my 
return  from  Wilmington.  Anna  fed  her  at  noon. 
In  the  winter  season — for  we  lived  out  there  all  the 
year  round — I  would  not  get  home  until  after  dark, 
and  it  was  quite  a  task  under  the  circumstances  to 
care  for  the  cow  and  extract  the  lacteal  fluid  from 
her  udder  before  I  got  my  supper.  I  recall  that  one 
evening  I  started  out  for  the  stable  on  my  customary 
errand,  with  a  lantern  in  one  hand  and  a  milk  pail  in 
the  other.  I  wore  a  hunting  shirt,  of  course,  which 
Anna  had  made.  Between  the  two  places  there  was 
a  wire  fence  through  which  I  had  to  creep.  I  readily 
accomplished  this  when  going  over,  but  coming  back 
with  the  pail  full  of  milk  was  not  so  easy.  On  this 
occasion,  in  pushing  my  way  through  the  fence,  I 

139 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

got  caught  in  the  wire  and  upset  my  pail  and  spilled 
the  milk,  not  altogether  on  the  ground,  but  a  con- 
siderable portion  on  my  clothing.  The  exhibit  I 
made  of  myself  before  my  wife  was  something  not 
easily  forgotten.  I  can  remember  only  one  such 
occasion,  but  there  may  have  been  others. 

At  Greenbank  lived  a  carpenter  who  did  odd  jobs 
for  us.  For  one  thing  he  put  a  new  leg  in  father 
Atkinson's  table.  His  customary  expletive  was 
"  bejings,"  so  he  came  to  be  called  "  Bejings,"  and 
the  name  clung  as  long  as  we  knew  him. 

As  we  had  plenty  of  milk  it  was  in  order  to  have 
cream  not  only  for  our  cereals,  gravies  and  for  ice 
cream,  but  for  butter  also,  so  I  bought  a  churn  and  a 
full  outfit  for  making  the  finest  grade  of  butter.  We 
were  novices  in  the  business.  At  home  mother  at- 
tended to  setting  the  milk,  skimming  it,  and  having 
the  cream  just  the  right  temperature  for  churning. 
Anna,  having  been  brought  up  in  town,  had  never 
been  taught  the  art  of  buttermaking.  However,  we 
usually  made  out  pretty  well,  the  butter  would 
"  come  "  just  about  as  soon  as  it  should  for  the  best 
results.  But  on  one  occasion  the  temperature  of  the 
cream  could  not  have  been  quite  right,  and  this 
meant  that  no  amount  of  churning  would  cause  the 
cream  to  change  to  butter.  Cream  it  was  when  put 
in  the  churn  and  cream  it  remained.  This  time  I 
stayed  at  home  from  the  office  to  churn.  I  churned 
for  hours,  wife  occasionally  taking  a  try  at  it,  then 
in  desperation  I  would  make  another  effort,  still  in 
vain.  We  sent  for  our  neighbor  Pyle  to  come  to  our 
assistance.  He  came,  looked  into  the  churn,  sized 
up  conditions,  and  showed  a  strong  inclination  to 
disregard  our  request  for  aid.  Noting  his  reluctance 
to  assume  any  responsibility  for  that  cream,  and 
having  had  enough  myself,  I  said  to  him :  "  Pyle,  go 

140 


MAPLE  HILL 


ahead  and  churn  until  the  butter  conies  and  you 
may  have  the  butter."  The  man  declined,  leaving 
us  with  the  remark:  "No,  bejings.  I  can't  under- 
take that  job."  After  this  fiasco  we  sold  our  churn 
and  bought  our  butter  at  the  Wilmington  curb 
market  for  thirty  cents  a  pound. 

Out  at  Greenbank  there  lived  at  that  time  most 
kindly  neighbors,  William  G.  Philips  and  his  wife, 
Hannah,  and  their  daughter,  Allie.  Hannah  was  the 
first  subscriber  the  Farm  Journal  ever  had.  Those 
folks  were  among  our  dear  friends,  and  we  little 
thought  of  moving  away  so  long  as  they  remained 
our  neighbors.  But  in  the  fall  of  1876  they  decided 
they  must  go  to  Wilmington  to  live.  This  was  a 
great  shock  to  us,  and  was  a  factor  in  inducing  me 
to  sell  out  my  interest  in  the  Commercial  and  return 
to  Philadelphia.  Accordingly,  my  old  partner, 
Howard,  and  my  new  partner,  Ferris,  agreed  to 
purchase  my  share  in  the  paper,  printing  plant,  and 
office  building.  No  cash  was  required  in  the  trans- 
action, and  none  was  available  if  it  had  been  re- 
quired. Some  months  later  the  millionaire  manu- 
facturer who  then  owned  the  Every  Evening  bought 
out  Jenkins  &  Ferris,  and  combined  the  two  papers, 
thus  also  ending  Howard's  career  as  publisher  in 
Wilmington.  I  proceeded  to  sell  my  house  at  Green- 
bank  as  soon  as  I  could  and  returned  to  Philadel- 
phia, again  taking  up  my  residence  in  the  City  of 
Brotherly  Love. 

For  ten  years  we  lived  in  Delaware,  making  many 
friends,  charming  people  whom  we  are  still  glad  to 
know  and  sometimes  meet,  and  it  goes  without  say- 
ing that  Anna  was  greatly  beloved  by  all,  and  this 
made  easy  going  and  coming  for  me. 

I  never  had  an  illness  while  I  was  a  resident  of 
Wilmington  more  serious  than  that  caused  by  the 

141 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

carbuncle  on  my  face.  I  had,  though,  two  or  three 
other  similar  pets  located  on  other  parts  of  my 
anatomy.  From  those  I  had  when  a  boy  and  since 
I  left  Wilmington  I  am  pretty  well  scarred  over, 
but  nothing  could  be  more  harmless  than  scars.  I 
do  not  have  carbuncles  now ;  I  am  unable  to  decide 
whether  it  is  because  I  have  outgrown  them  or  have 
been  punished  enough.  But  I  suspect  rather  it  is 
because  my  doctor  pumped  some  variety  of  anti- 
toxin into  my  arm,  and  called  the  performance  in- 
oculation, since  which  time  that  kind  of  ailments 
has  shied  off  and  let  me  alone. 

Our  Tatnall  Street  house,  next  door  to  the 
Stones,  had  lead  water  pipes  conveying  our  water 
supply.  We  used  the  city  water  derived  from  the 
Brandywine  creek  for  both  drinking  and  cooking 
purposes.  The  water  had  been  turned  on  several 
days  before  our  entrance  and  was  lying  in  the  pipes. 
In  consequence  of  which  it  was  affected  deleteri- 
ously ;  in  fact,  it  was  poisoned.  So  it  soon  developed 
that  we  were  victims  of  lead  poisoning  and  we  didn't 
know  what  ailed  us.  People  at  that  period,  as  now, 
were  often  advised  to  drink  plenty  of  water,  espe- 
cially when  ill,  and  that  is  what  we  did.  We  kept  on 
drinking  the  water  until  we  were  almost  too  sick  to 
send  for  a  doctor.  But  when  the  doctor  did  come, 
he  shut  off  our  lead  water  intake,  and  we  soon  re- 
covered. We  had  been  really  quite  ill.  The  lead 
pipes  are  not  used  nowadays,  being  replaced  by 
such  as  do  not  poison  the  water. 

I  would  be  omitting  something  that  ought  to  be 
mentioned  if  I  failed  to  tell  that  I  was  a  convert  to 
vegetarianism,  and  followed  the  fad  with  my  usual 
persistency.  It  was,  of  course,  one  of  my  notions, 
of  the  value  of  which  Anna  was  never  fully  con- 
vinced. We  had  in  the  town  a  water  cure  estab- 

142 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

lishment  under  the  ownership  and  direction  of  two 
graduates  of  Jackson's  famous  sanitarium,  husband 
and  wife.  It  was  through  the  heads  of  this  institu- 
tion that  I  became  a  convert.  My  health  had  been 
good  on  an  ordinary  mixed  diet,  and  re- 
mained so  under  a  regimen  of  cereals,  eggs,  milk, 
fruit,  nuts  and  vegetables.  I  learned  much  that  has 
been  of  use  to  my  family  and  myself  from  reading 
books  on  the  subject  of  water  cure,  and  the  error  of 
overmuch  drug  medication.  I  now  take  a  more 
thoughtful  view  than  I  did  then  of  the  subject,  for 
I  believe  that  drugs  are  sometimes  useful  and  often 
necessary  in  the  treatment  of  diseases.  I  have  seen 
this  demonstrated  many  times.  I  believe  there  is  no 
more  useful  personage  in  any  community  than  a 
family  doctor,  who  is  gifted  with  sound  common 
sense,  and  who  has  learned  to  rely  more  on  nature's 
cure  than  on  any  medicine  he  can  prescribe,  and  who 
knows  that  cheerful  talk  to  his  patients,  with  rest 
and  sleep  in  bed,  and  hot  and  cold  fomentations  as 
indicated,  goes  a  long  way  towards  effecting  cures. 
Of  course,  every  doctor  ought  to  have  a  thorough 
education  at  a  regular  medical  college  before  he 
begins  to  write  prescriptions  for  people's  ailments 
or  to  offer  advice. 

It  is  customary  in  this  generation  for  children  in 
schools,  at  least  in  city  schools,  to  have  surgical  ex- 
aminations for  certain  obstructions  in  the  nostrils, 
called  adenoids,  for  defective  teeth  and  for  imper- 
fect vision.  It  was  not  so  in  the  time  of  my  youth. 
I  was  near-sighted  and  did  not  realize  it  until  one 
day  I  tried  on  a  pair  of  glasses  at  an  optician's  in 
Wilmington.  Turning  my  gaze  up  Market  Street 
"  I  could  see  things,"  which  I  had  never  seen  be- 
fore. I  could  see  the  clear  outline  of  every  object 
within  range,  of  vehicles  moving  far  up  the  street, 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

and  I  could  read  signs  several  blocks  away.  This 
was  a  revelation  to  me.  A  new  world  had  opened. 
In  fact,  I  never  before  had  had  any  satisfaction  in 
looking  at  objects  more  than  fifty  feet  away,  as  my 
vision  was  so  indistinct.  I  could  not  recognize  a 
friend  across  the  street.  It  was  a  great  day  when  I 
had  glasses  fitted.  They  enabled  me  really  to  see. 
I  have  been  happier  ever  since.  I  was  then  about 
twenty-seven  years  old. 

Wilmington  people  of  means  during  the  period  I 
was  among  them  patronized  Cape  May  as  a  health 
resort  during  the  summer  months.  It  was  not  the 
fashion  then  to  go  to  Palm  Beach  for  the  winter  as 
it  is  now,  for  the  Florida  and  East  Coast  Railroad 
had  not  been  thought  of  then.  Some  visited  the 
White  mountains  in  the  summer.  A  steamboat  line 
to  Cape  May  from  Wilmington  made  the  trip 
easy.  As  I  remember,  wife  and  I  went  once  or 
twice  to  this  resort,  and  indulged  in  a  little  sea-bath- 
ing, but  I  could  not  afford  much  of  a  vacation,  the 
exactions  of  our  business  being  such  that  we  could 
not  be  away  for  more  than  a  few  days  at  a  time. 
What  exercise  and  recreation  I  obtained  was  in  play- 
ing the  game  of  croquet  on  Saturday  afternoons 
whenever  I  could  get  somebody  to  help  make  up  a 
game.  I  could  not  always  do  that.  There  were  few 
suitable  grounds  within  reach,  and  not  many  people 
had  the  skill  to  make  a  game  interesting  for  me.  In 
lieu  of  a  game  of  croquet,  I  sometimes  went  out  with 
Tom  de  Normandie,  a  little  bit  of  a  man  who  kept  a 
crockery  store,  to  some  open  lot  where  we  batted  a 
ball  back  and  forth.  There  was  not  very  much  fun 
in  that,  but  Tom  was  very  fond  of  it,  and  as  he  was 
one  of  the  kind  gentlemen  who  occasionally  loaned 
me  money  to  meet  our  notes  in  bank,  it  was  all  right 
to  have  this  game  with  him.  I  have  always  been 

144 


ONE  OF  MY  FAVORITE  GAMES 


QUAKER  CITY  ROQUE  COURTS  IN  FAIRMOUNT  PARK 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

passionately  fond  of  outdoor  sports,  and  never  fail 
to  indulge  in  them  on  every  suitable  occasion.  At 
this  present  time,  one  of  my  favorite  sports  is  golf, 
and  it  is  said  that  I  play  a  good  game  "  considering 
your  age."  I  never  like  people  to  express  their 
views  in  just  that  way.  What  is  the  use  of  bring- 
ing in  the  question  of  age,  anyhow?  We  didn't 
have  golf  at  Wilmington  in  the  sixties,  but  they 
have  a  fine  club  there  now. 

I  have  heretofore  mentioned  that  I  built  a  small 
cottage  at  Greenbank  and  moved  out  to  it,  that  we 
lived  there  two  years,  and  then,  finding  we  had  not 
enough  land,  bought  an  adjoining  lot  and  built  a 
house  on  it  with  a  tower.  I  was  enabled  to  build 
these  houses  by  making  contracts  for  advertising 
in  the  Commercial  with  builders  of  every  class.  A 
firm  of  carpenters  gave  us  a  yearly  card  to  be  paid 
for  in  work;  a  similar  arrangement  was  made  with 
a  roofer,  a  plasterer,  a  lumberman,  a  plumber,  a 
mason,  a  painter  and  even  with  a  lightning-rod  man. 
There  would  be  some  cash  coming  to  each  one  after 
he  had  settled  his  advertising  bill.  This  was  an  easy 
way  for  them  to  obtain  the  publicity  which  the  Com- 
mercial could  give  them,  and  it  made  it  convenient 
for  me  to  pay  for  the  houses.  The  advertising  was 
charged  up  against  me  on  the  books  of  the  firm.  We 
did  considerable  advertising  in  this  way  for  dry 
goods  and  grocery  men.  We  needed  the  goods  and 
they  needed  the  advertising.  We  even  got  railroad 
transportation  in  the  same  way. 

A  feature  of  the  Daily  Commercial,  during  nearly 
all  the  ten  years  Howard  and  I  published  it,  was  a 
Saturday  letter  from  Philadelphia  from  the  pen  of 
Anna's  brother  George.  It  was  a  very  popular  cor- 
respondence, and  our  readers  awaited  its  appear- 
ance on  Saturday  evenings  with  pleasure.  Wil- 

10  *45 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

mington  was  almost  like  a  suburb  of  Philadelphia, 
connections  between  the  two  cities  being  made  by 
numerous  swift  trains  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and 
far  into  the  night.  George  kept  our  readers  posted 
on  what  was  going  on  in  our  big  neighbor,  espe- 
cially in  musical,  art  or  political  lines.  He  was  well 
informed  on  all  topics  of  interest,  and  wrote  grace- 
ful letters,  his  style  being  distinctly  Addisonian.  In 
all  that  time  he  was  an  editorial  writer  on  the  Even- 
ing Telegraph,  then  the  most  popular  evening  paper 
in  Philadelphia.  He  was  the  paper's  music  and  art 
critic.  He  was  a  handsome,  gentle-natured  man, 
possessing  the  manners  of  the  old  school.  The  office 
of  the  Telegraph  then  was  close  by  the  banking  house 
of  Jay  Cooke  and  Company  on  South  Third  Street. 
The  paper  belonged  to  Charles  E.  Warburton,  and 
after  his  death  to  Barclay,  his  son,  who  married  a 
daughter  of  John  Wanamaker.  Later  it  was  bought 
by  the  Curtis  Publishing  Company  and  merged  with 
the  Evening  Public  Ledger.  Philadelphia,  with  a 
population  of  more  than  one  and  one-half  million 
inhabitants,  has  now  but  two  evening  papers,  the 
Evening  Public  Ledger  and  the  Evening  Bulletin,  each 
selling  at  two  cents  a  copy. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  I  became  restive  as  one  of 
the  publishers  of  the  Wilmington  Daily  Commercial, 
when  our  little  city  of  twenty-five  thousand  inhabi- 
tants was  asked  to  support  five  one-cent  evening 
dailies,  and  that  I  secretly  pondered  the  question 
whether  it  would  be  wise  to  continue  in  that  un- 
enviable situation?  I  did  become  restive. 

I  have  been  giving  in  this  book  my  impression 
of  Wilmington  when  we  went  there  in  1866.  I 
thought  it  would  be  of  interest  to  the  reader  if  I 
could  obtain  the  sentiments  of  the  people  of  Wil- 
mington in  regard  to  the  Wilmington  Daily  Commer- 

146 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

eta/.  I  had  a  desire  to  know  what  people  thought  of 
the  paper,  and  whether  it  was  worthy  of  the  sup- 
port of  the  city  and  state.  Very  few  people  that  we 
knew  at  the  time  are  now  living.  I  could  think  of 
only  George  W.  Stone  as  one  who  was  there  and 
was  able  to  give  expression  on  the  subject  in  ques- 
tion. I  told  him  that  I  was  writing  an  autobiog- 
raphy, in  the  course  of  which  I  had  reached  Wil- 
mington, and  that  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  might  add 
to  the  interest  of  the  work  if  some  Wilmington  per- 
son or  persons,  who  were  there  when  we  lived  in 
the  town,  would  give  their  impression  of  our  news- 
paper enterprise  at  the  time,  and  also  would  tell  to 
what  extent  the  young  Philadelphia  journalists 
accomplished  their  purpose. 

I  wrote :  "  You  were  in  Wilmington  and  know 
better  than  any  other  person  now  living  how  nearly 
Jenkins  and  Atkinson  made  good,  and  also  what  was 
the  view  of  the  town  of  our  performances.  I  am  not 
seeking  praise  for  myself,  but  it  would  be  a  pleasure 
to  me  to  have  Howard's  rare  ability  as  a  writer 
recognized,  and  the  absolutely  honest  and  fearless 
adherence  to  high  ideals  that  characterized  him.  I 
believe  our  paper  held  to  a  high  standard  both  in  a 
material  and  altruistic  sense." 

To  this  letter  I  received  a  prompt  reply,  as 
follows : 

Santa  Cruz,  California, 

February  12,  1920. 
DEAR  WILMER  : 

I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  leave  your  tracks  on 
earth  and  wish  you  much  comfort  in  going  over 
your  triumphs  and  tribulations.  I  often  recall  the 
days  when  we  were  neighbors,  when  you  ran  the 
Commercial,  which,  by  the  way,  was  a  good,  clean, 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

strong  paper,  one  that  would  be  welcomed  in  every 
home,  even  if  the  reader  did  not  agree  with  all  it 
advocated.  Howard  was  a  very  capable  writer  and 
had  a  keen  vision  for  truth,  even  at  the  expense  of 
more  or  less  popularity.  I  would  like  to  have  such 
a  paper  to-day,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  they  are  few 
and  far  between.  Howard  was  a  good  fighter,  as 
those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  soon  learned. 
His  loss  was  a  loss  to  the  newspaper  fraternity  that 
has  not  been  filled,  at  least  among  the  every-day 
journals  we  now  have.  Those  were  lively  days  for 
us,  but  those  that  followed  were  much  more  lively. 
Politics  then  and  now  were  much  the  same.  But  we 
may  now,  under  the  stress  of  wars  and  debts,  de- 
velop some  new  political  aspirations,  even  if  they 
are  not  immediately  realized.  The  trend  towards 
freedom  from  narrow-minded  partisanship  seems  to 
be  growing.  In  our  old  Wilmington  days  the  bitter 
hatreds  that  grew  out  of  the  Civil  War  politics  be- 
came almost  a  feud.  In  this  struggle  the  Commercial 
was  always  loyal  to  the  best  things  going  on  in  the 
political  world.  No  one  ever  suspected  that  journal 
of  corrupt  practices  of  any  kind.  Howard  was  capa- 
ble of  taking  care  of  himself  without  submitting  to 
"  caretakers  "  of  any  description.  This  may  sound 
a  little  strange  in  this  time  of  owned  papers,  and 
editorial  submission  to  the  publishing  department. 
But  this  is,  let  us  hope,  only  a  temporary  condition. 
Maybe  the  people  will  rise  in  their  wrath  and  smite 
"  hip  and  thigh  "  these  pestiferous  newspapers  that 
cater  to  personal  interests  at  the  expense  of 
the  public. 

As  ever 

Sincerely  yours, 

GEORGE  W.  STONE. 
148 


DAILY  JOURNALISM  IN  DELAWARE 

I  am  in  full  accord  with  my  friend's  aspiration 
for  independent,  fearless  journalism.  Entirely  too 
many  newspapers,  in  city  and  in  country,  are  either 
owned  by  or  are  under  the  sinister  control  of  some 
influential  business  men  or  political  bosses.  The 
ostensible  ownership  plays  second  fiddle  when  it 
ought,  and  could,  if  it  would,  play  first.  It  used  to 
be  that  country  papers,  read  by  farmers,  were 
owned  and  edited  by  free  men  who  dared  to  say 
what  they  pleased  without  leave  or  license  from  any 
overlord.  There  are  still  some  such  papers  left — all 
honor  to  them — may  their  tribe  increase. 

Miss  Emma  Worrell  is  another  Wilmingtonian 
(she  confirms  the  truth  of  the  theory  that  the  fittest 
survive)  who  remembers  the  advent  of  the  first  daily 
newspaper  in  the  State  of  Delaware,  was  familiar 
with  its  career  during  the  decade  beginning  October, 
1866,  and  who  adds  her  testimony  as  to  the  able  and 
honorable  part  performed  by  H.  M.  Jenkins,  editor 
of  the  Daily  Commercial  and  senior  partner  of  the 
firm  of  Jenkins  and  Atkinson.  She  writes : 

"  The  Daily  Commercial  was  a  well-printed 
paper,  a  clean,  forward-looking  journal  that  was 
never  smirched  by  bad  politics,  and  that  upheld  a 
high  standard  of  journalism.  I  remember  very  well 
the  launching  of  the  Commercial  and  the  cordial  hope- 
fulness of  the  liberal  Republicans  and  friends  of 
clean  politics,  as  well  as  of  a  higher  literary  standard 
in  our  public  press,  that  it  would  open  a  new  era  in 
journalism  here  and  be  the  mouthpiece  of  justice, 
fairness  and  progress.  Its  brave  moral  position  and 
its  use  of  good  English  were  welcomed  and  appre- 
ciated. Such  a  paper  was  much  needed.  I  think  it 
accomplished  a  great  deal  and  set  a  higher  goal  than 
we  had  ever  had  before.  If  it  made  enemies,  that 

149 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

was  to  be  expected.  Criticism  of  it,  even  in  the 
house  of  its  friends  sometimes,  was  not  remarkable. 
This  was  a  politics-ridden  country,  or  else  a  care- 
less, lethargic  one,  and  the  pioneer  in  new  ways  of 
thinking  and  doing  had  to  have  a  hard  time.  But 
you  did  your  work  with  high  intentions  and  with  as 
much  success  as  might  be  looked  for.  Many  of  us 
missed  you  personally  when  you  left  and  missed  the 
free,  high-toned  paper. 

"  I  have  high  regards  for  Howard  M.  Jenkins's 
literary  ability  which  united  with  force  and  clear- 
ness an  imagination  and  a  sprightly  wit  which  made 
his  writing  not  only  readable  but  informing.  His 
historical  sketches  were  really  charming  and  I  wish 
he  had  written  more  in  that  vein  while  he  was 
in  Delaware." 

It  is  needless  to  say  I  am  much  gratified  that, 
after  a  lapse  of  more  than  half  a  century,  there  should 
appear  two  such  discriminating  witnesses  as  George 
W.  Stone  and  Emma  Worrell  to  testify  regarding 
the  worthiness  of  the  effort  of  Howard  M.  Jenkins 
and  myself  to  establish  at  Wilmington  the  first  daily 
newspaper  ever  printed  in  the  State  of  Delaware. 
Both  of  these  friends  were  there  at  the  time  and 
knew  what  we  were  trying  to  do  and  how  well  we 
succeeded  in  bearing  aloft  the  standard  of  free,  inde- 
pendent and  honorable  journalism. 


150 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  A  POWDER  WAGON 
EXPLOSION 

THE  last  day  of  May,  in  the  year  1854,  at  ten- 
forty  o'clock  in  the  morning,  three  heavy  wagons 
were  moving  quietly  along  Fourteenth  Street,  near 
Orange  Street,  in  the  city  of  Wilmington,  Delaware. 
Two  of  the  wagons  were  driven  by  five  horses  each, 
the  other  wagon  by  four.  The  teams  were  attended 
and  directed  by  five  men,  one  of  them  undersized ;  the 
wagons  were  loaded  with  gunpowder  which  was 
being  conveyed  from  the  du  Pont  Powder  Mills 
on  the  Brandywine  to  a  storage  house  a  few  miles 
up  the  Delaware  shore. 

In  each  wagon  there  were  one  hundred  and  fifty 
kegs  of  powder,  twenty-five  pounds  in  a  keg.  That 
was  not  a  very  heavy  load  for  the  teams  had  the 
roads  been  good,  but  there  had  been  heavy  rains 
which  caused  the  highways  to  be  deep  with  mud, 
for  the  streets  were  not  paved. 

Usually,  the  powder  vvag-o/is  were  taken  by  a 
more  direct  route  to  their  destination;  bat  the' bad 
condition  of  the  roads  made  it  advisable,  it  was 
thought,  to  have  them  pass  through  the  outskirts 
of  Wilmington.  This  part  of  the  street  was  not 
closely  built  up,  but  there  were  many  fine  dwellings 
not  far  away  and  some  rows  of  smaller  houses.  In 
one  of  the  larger  houses  dwelt  the  venerable  Bishop 
Lee  of  the  Episcopal  Church. 

At  the  hour  mentioned  above  something  hap- 
pened, something  unusual,  something  not  antici- 
pated, except  by  the  numerous  citizens  who  had 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

foreseen  danger  in  having  gunpowder  taken 
through  a  populous  city.  These  citizens  were  right 
— there  was  danger — and  proof  was  at  hand,  for  the 
powder  in  the  middle  or  forward  wagon,  it  is  not 
known  which,  had  in  some  mysterious  way  caught 
fire  and  exploded  with  a  most  terrific  noise.  The 
first  explosion  was  followed  on  the  instant  by  the 
explosion  of  the  powder  in  the  rear  wagon.  Persons  at 
some  distance  away  could  not  clearly  distinguish  that 
there  was  any  interregnum  between  the  explosions. 

The  whole  city  was  shaken  as  if  by  an  earth- 
quake, and  the  people  were  alarmed.  One  person 
relates  that  it  seemed  as  if  a  great  number  of  houses 
had  been  lifted  up  and  then  dashed  to  the  earth. 
Emma  Worrell,  now  living  in  Wilmington,  who  was 
teaching  school  at  Concord,  Chester  county,  heard 
the  explosion — one  explosion — and  immediately 
after  saw  a  great  volume  of  smoke  rising  from  the 
direction  of  Wilmington.  The  noise  of  the  explo- 
sion was  heard  as  far  as  Elkton,  Maryland. 

Hundreds  of  the  people  of  the  town  hurried  to 
the  spot  and  a  little  later  the  country  people  came 
thronging  in.-  The,  houses 'witbtri'  several  blocks 
were  badly  shattered,  ceilings  fell,  window  glass  was 
broken,  sashes  were  forced  in  or  out,  and  the  con- 
tents of  china  closets  were1  in  some  cases  broken. 

The  good  bishop's  house,  one  of  the  nearest  to 
the  scene  of  the  disaster,  was  so  badly  damaged  that 
it  had  in  some  parts  to  be  rebuilt.  It  was  fortunate 
that  both  the  bishop  and  his  family  were  not  at 
home,  the  former  being  in  attendance  upon  a  con- 
vention of  the  church.  A  piece  of  scantling  was 
torn  from  some  building,  flung  across  the  Brandy- 
wine  creek,  and  driven  into  the  ground  where  it  was 
found  standing  upright. 

A  house  a  few  blocks  away  contained  two  closets 
152 


POWDER  WAGON  EXPLOSION 

separated  from  each  other  by  a  tongued  and  grooved 
partition.  The  concussion  separated  the  boards  of 
the  partition,  opened  the  cracks  which,  when  they 
closed  again,  locked  the  clothing  fast  in  both  closets. 
A  row  of  houses  four  hundred  feet  away  from  the 
explosion  was  wrecked  and  a  man  writing  at  a  desk 
was  thrown  to  the  floor  he  hardly  knew  how.  The 
tops  of  the  tall  pines  and  spruces  were  broken  off. 
Every  building  in  the  city  trembled  as  though  it 
would  fall. 

A  colored  coachman  standing  near  a  stable  was 
found  dead;  the  stable  was  demolished  and  set 
on  fire. 

Mrs.  Price  was  canning  cherries  and  had  a  glass 
bowl  on  a  chair  beside  her.  The  bowl  was  lifted 
from  the  chair  to  the  floor  without  harm,  and  the 
woman  received  no  serious  injury. 

Where  were  the  wagons?  Where?  In  frag- 
ments scattered  to  the  four  winds;  a  piece  of  tire 
weighing  ten  pounds  was  blown  through  a  board 
fence  and  lodged  in  a  house  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fence,  tearing  out  some  bricks  where  it  struck.  An- 
other piece  of  tire  weighing  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  was  found  five  hundred  yards  distant.  An- 
other smaller  one  was  picked  up  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  away. 

Where  were  the  horses?  Where?  Lying  on 
either  side  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  away,  one  disem- 
boweled, two  literally  blown  to  pieces  and  dis- 
tributed over  a  distance  of  three  or  four  hundred 
yards.  I  have  no  information  about  the  other  ten 
horses,  but  it  is  doubtful  if  any  of  them  survived. 

And  what  was  the  fate  of  the  drivers?  Four 
were  stone  dead  and  one,  mortally  hurt,  soon  died. 
A  hand  and  arm  were  picked  up,  small  like  a 
woman's,  supposed  to  be  those  of  the  undersized 

iS3 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

diiver.  Some  mutilated  fragments  of  the  other 
drivers  were  found  one  hundred  yards  away.  A 
child  was  discovered  buried  in  the  debris  of  a  demol- 
ished house  with  its  feet  sticking  out ;  it  was  rescued 
without  having  been  much  injured. 

The  ground  under  the  wagons  was  torn  out  to  a 
space  the  size  of  the  wagons,  and  from  one  to  two 
feet  deep. 

How  did  it  happen?  How  was  the  powder 
ignited?  One  of  the  drivers  had  been  seen  smoking 
a  cigar.  It  was  conjectured  that  some  of  the  kegs 
had  leaked,  or  that  there  might  have  been  some  loose 
powder  in  a  wagon  which  filtered  through  and  fell 
to  the  ground ;  that  these  grains  of  powder  were 
ignited  from  a  spark  struck  against  a  stone  by  a 
wagon  wheel,  or  a  horse's  hoof ;  and  that  a  flame  was 
in  some  such  way  carried  to  the  stores  of  powder  in 
the  kegs. 

While  no  one  knew  just  how  it  happened,  all 
Wilmington  knew  that  it  did  happen  and  remem- 
bered it  for  many  a  year.  Few  are  living  who  heard 
the  noise  of  the  explosion.  The  story  is  often  told 
and  repeated  over  and  over  again. 

Such  was  the  Tragedy  of  the  Powder  Wagon 
Explosion  that  startled  and  shattered  Wilmington  on 
that  sultry  morning  in  May,  in  the  year  1854. 


154 


CHAPTER  XII 
FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

THE  reader  may  recall  the  conversation  in  which 
father  Allen  asked  me  if  we  had  not  better  wait  and 
see  how  the  new  enterprise  turned  out  before  get- 
ting married.  My  answer,  the  reader  may  also  re- 
member, was  the  indirect  one  of  fixing  the  date  of 
our  wedding  and  issuing  our  wedding  invitations.  I 
can  only  say  that  if  I  had  it  to  do  over  again  the 
answer  would  not  have  been  different,  but  it  would 
have  been  accompanied  by  an  apology  to  father  Allen. 

As  wife  and  I  moved  back  to  Philadelphia  with 
our  household  goods  and  our  three  jewels,  Eliza- 
beth, Emily,  and  Gertrude,  there  was  not  the  slight- 
est feeling  of  regret  on  my  wife's  part  nor  on  mine 
that  we  had  married,  nor  that  we  had  had  the  won- 
derful experience  of  our  really  great  business  ad- 
venture. I  might  have  concluded,  not  unreasonably, 
that  upon  returning  to  Philadelphia,  after  ten  years 
of  arduous  labor,  with  nothing  in  the  way  of  worldly 
goods  more  than  we  had  at  the  outset,  I  should  have 
felt  a  sense  of  discouragement  and  have  wanted  to 
give  up  any  further  contest.  I  was  thirty-seven 
years  old  then,  and  had  to  make  an  entirely  new 
beginning.  We  had  acquired  so  many  true  friends 
in  Wilmington,  had  such  a  grand,  good  time  through- 
out our  stay  there,  and  we  had  gained  so  much  valu- 
able knowledge,  that  I  returned  feeling  as  if  I  had 
won  a  victory,  rather  than  suffered  defeat.  I  never 
for  one  moment  doubted  that  success  would  crown 
my  future  efforts  in  the  new  enterprise  in  which  I 
was  about  to  engage,  that  of  publishing  a  farm  paper. 

i5S 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

I  had  been  reared  at  the  plow  handles,  had  per- 
formed all  the  tasks  required  in  the  cultivation  of 
the  soil,  had  taught  school,  had  published  a  weekly 
paper,  the  Norristvwn  Republican,  for  two  years,  the 
Delaware  Tribune  for  seven  years,  and  the  Wilming- 
ton Daily  Commercial  for  ten  years,  What  better 
education  and  equipment  could  I  have  had  for  suc- 
ceeding in  the  publication  of  a  farm  paper?  I  might 
have  gone  back  to  farming,  sought  an  opportunity 
as  a  book  or  insurance  agent,  or  have  accepted  the 
dignified  and  honorable  position  of  floor-walker  in  a 
dry-goods  store.  As  a  boy  on  my  father's  farm  I 
dreamed  dreams  of  attaining  some  marked  success, 
somewhere,  somehow,  and  those  dreams  must  now 
be  made  realities.  So,  after  getting  my  family  settled 
in  a  comfortable  home,  I  set  about  organizing  my 
new  business. 

When  Jenkins  and  Atkinson  went  to  Wilming- 
ton in  1866  to  publish  a  daily  paper  it  was  an  un- 
favorable time  to  start  a  new  enterprise.  The  cur- 
rency was  inflated  and  we  were  tobogganing  down 
to  a  gold  basis.  We  did  not  land  there  while  I  was 
at  Wilmington,  nor  did  we  get  down  to  bed-rock 
until  two  years  after  the  Farm  Journal  was  started. 
I  now  often  wonder  why  I  was  not  a  bit  discouraged 
and  ready  to  yield  to  what  appeared  to  be  a  hard 
fate.  I  had  a  wife  and  three  daughters  to  support,  I 
was  without  any  capital  worth  speaking  of,  and  was 
near  the  age  of  forty.  Yet  if  I  was  not  rich,  my 
health  was  good,  my  experience  was  a  valuable  asset, 
my  family  and  myself  rejoiced  in  the  regard  of  hun- 
dreds of  friends  we  had  made  in  Delaware,  I  had  the 
love  of  a  true  and  helpful  wife,  the  affection  of  our 
children,  each  one  a  pattern  of  her  mother — why 
should  I  feel  discouraged,  why  should  I  hesitate, 
why  should  I  not  go  forward  and  make  my  boy- 

156 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

hood's  dreams  come  true?  I  was  not  discouraged; 
I  did  not  hesitate ;  and  I  proceeded  to  carry  out  my 
design  of  establishing  a  monthly  paper  for  farmers. 
For  a  person  with  a  stout  heart,  a  clear  head,  an 
honest  purpose,  a  good  wife,  and  three  daughters, 
there  is  no  such  word  as  fail. 

Father  and  mother  Allen  became  welcome  in- 
mates of  our  new  home  where  happily  they  lived  to 
celebrate  their  Golden  Wedding  anniversary. 

I  had  some  acquaintance  with  John  Wanamaker, 
the  rising  young  merchant  who  was  about  my  age, 
having,  in  both  our  Norristown  and  Wilmington 
papers,  done  some  advertising  for  him,  then  the 
founder  of  Wanamaker  and  Brown's  clothing  store. 
I  called  to  see  him  at  the  old  Pennsylvania  Railroad 
Station  at  Market  and  Thirteenth  Streets,  where  he 
was  laying  the  foundations  of  his  great  department 
store,  which  now  stands  as  a  monument  to  his  won- 
derful business  genius.  I  informed  him  of  my  plans 
to  start  a  farm  paper  to  circulate  in  all  the  counties 
surrounding  Philadelphia.  We  had  several  inter- 
views and  made  arrangements  for  a  page  advertising 
the  new  store  in  the  new  journal.  The  Wanamaker 
store  and  the  Farm  Journal  were  born  in  the  same 
month  and  the  same  year — March,  1877. 

My  first  newspaper  was  a  weekly,  the  second  a 
daily,  and  now  I  made  up  my  mind  that  the  new 
journal  must  be  a  monthly.  This  would  give  time 
for  a  little  rest  between  issues.  (I  always  had  a 
strong  inclination  to  rest.)  I  also  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  never  solicit  advertisements,  nor  ever 
employ  a  solicitor.  I  had  had  enough  of  that  experi- 
ence while  conducting  the  other  papers.  All  the 
solicitation  for  advertisements  I  did  by  circulars  sent 
through  the  mails.  I  had  no  objection  to  that  method 
of  letting  business  men  know  how  many  copies  I 

157 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

printed.  It  was  personal  begging  for  advertisements 
that  I  would  have  none  of.  I  also  resolved  that  I 
would  do  a  strictly  cash  business,  that  all  sub- 
scriptions must  be  paid  for  in  advance,  and  that  all 
advertisements  must  be  placed  upon  a  cash  basis. 
All  these  resolutions  were  kept  while  I  was  at  the 
helm,  for  a  period  of  forty  years. 

Realizing  that  if  I  obtained  a  large  circulation 
advertisers  would  find  me  out,  I  resolved  to  bend 
my  energies  towards  building  up  the  circulation. 
For  several  years,  therefore,  I  did  not  have  many 
advertisements,  my  income  being  mainly  from  sub- 
scriptions. As  I  only  charged  twenty-five  cents  a 
year  it  required  a  big  subscription  list  to  make  the 
wheels  go  round.  Of  the  first  issue  I  printed  twenty- 
five  thousand  copies ;  and,  if  my  memory  is  not  at 
fault,  I  never  printed  fewer  than  that. 

Besides  circularizing  for  subscribers,  I  attended 
agricultural  fairs  in  the  counties  around  Philadelphia 
in  order  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  farmers  and  to 
book  their  names  as  subscribers  at  twenty-five  cents 
a  year.  I  did  not  like  this  work,  but  I  must  do  it  in 
order  to  build  up  a  circulation,  and  my  thoughts  and 
energies  were  concentrated  upon  this  effort. 

In  the  ways  above  mentioned  I  was  taking  a  dis- 
tinct departure  from  all  methods  for  establishing  a 
farm  paper,  or  any  other  paper,  heretofore  adopted 
by  any  publisher.  I  entertained  a  theory  that  it 
was  a  bad  policy  to  secure  and  print  advertisements 
without  a  backing  of  circulation,  for  if  an  advertiser 
finds  he  is  not  getting  results  he  condemns  the 
paper,  "  sours  on  "  it,  and  will  refuse  to  renew.  It 
may  take  years  after  the  paper  has  obtained  a  cir- 
culation, before  he  is  convinced  that  he  might  safely 
make  another  trial.  This  might  be  termed  lost  mo- 
tion, and  this  is  what  I  wanted  to  avoid. 

158 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

It  seems  to  me  strange  that  this  fact,  being  so 
obvious  to  me,  is  not  appreciated  or  even  under- 
stood by  many  publishers.  It  is  a  common  thing 
for  publishers  to  push  the  advertising  department 
of  their  business  with  the  utmost  energy  and  per- 
sistence, crowding  space  that  belongs  to  reading 
matter,  and  all  the  time  knowing  that  the  circulation 
does  not  warrant  the  prodigious  efforts  made.  Such 
a  system  will,  in  time,  undermine  confidence  and 
deprive  the  publication  of  the  success  it  otherwise 
might  attain.  Many  a  publication  has  expired  from 
an  attack  of  pernicious  anaemia  caused  by  disregard- 
ing this  obvious  truth. 

Hon.  Josephus  Daniels,  Secretary  of  the  Navy 
during  the  World  War,  but,  before  he  went  to  Wash- 
ington, one  of  the  leading  newspaper  publishers  of 
the  South,  gave  expression  in  a  recent  interview  to 
just  such  sentiments  as  above  on  the  supreme  im- 
portance of  circulation  as  a  factor  in  a  publisher's 
success.  He  said :  "  It  is  an  old  saying,  but  a  true 
one,  that  if  a  man's  circulation  is  poor,  he  is  in  a  bad 
way.  The  same  thing  holds  true  of  a  paper.  It 
must  have  circulation.  You  can  never  get  circula- 
tion for  the  paper  whose  editorial  policy  is  run  from 
the  business  office.  If  you  get  a  circulation  of  char- 
acter, the  advertising  is  bound  to  come.  By  circula- 
tion of  character  I  mean  home  circulation ;  I  mean 
you  must  have  your  paper  a  part  of  the  family  life, 
so  that  if  it  should  fail  to  come  it  will  be  missed.  The 
paper  which  lets  its  advertisers  direct  its  policy  is 
doomed.  I  am  strong  for  circulation.  I  would  rather 
have  my  business  manager  bring  in  a  year's  sub- 
scription from  some  subscriber  whom  I  wanted  to 
have  read  my  paper  than  to  bring  in  a  hundred  dol- 
lar advertising  contract,  for  with  circulation  the 
advertising  is  bound  to  come." 

159 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

The  foregoing  are  some  of  the  original  bed-rock 
principles  on  which  my  new  paper  was  founded,  and 
which  were  never  disregarded.  Others  of  equal,  and 
some  of  much  greater  importance  were  adopted  later. 

Up  to  this  time  I  had  never  been  an  editor,  and 
did  not  consider  myself  a  writer.  I  fully  believed 
that  I  was  not  cut  out  for  that  kind  of  work.  I  had 
been  business  manager  and  felt  at  home  in  that  field, 
but  I  was  founding  a  paper  that  must  be  edited  by 
somebody,  and  I  knew  not  where  to  look  for  a  per- 
son for  the  job.  Had  I  found  a  competent  person,  I 
was  not  able  to  pay  him  a  salary.  In  fact,  I  did  not 
believe  I  could  find  anyone  who  would  edit  the  paper 
to  suit  me,  so  I  did  not  look  for  anyone.  There  was 
nothing  to  do,  therefore,  but  to  buckle  down  to  that 
job  myself.  From  the  start,  and  for  many  years 
thereafter,  I  wore  a  hat  that  fitted  at  the  same  time 
the  head  of  both  editor  and  business  manager. 

After  getting  well  under  way,  I  found  to  my  sur- 
prise that  my  readers  liked  my  crisp,  clear,  practical 
way  of  putting  things,  and  the  spice  of  humor  thrown 
in.  This  was  indeed  a  revelation  to  me,  and  opened 
a  new  vista  wherein  I  saw  promise  of  my  farm-boy 
dreams  coming  true.  By  my  compact  style  of  ex- 
pression I  could  put  a  great  many  things  in  a  small 
space  and  this  saved  the  cost  of  a  larger  sheet.  I 
knew  what  to  leave  out  as  well  as  what  to  put  in. 
And  I  knew  how  not  to  be  solemn. 

The  circulation  of  the  Farm  Journal  is  now  wide- 
spread throughout  the  United  States,  as  is  well 
known,  but  I  did  not  originally  conceive  of  anything 
more  than  a  local  circulation.  I  have  before  me  a 
circular  which  I  sent  out  in  advance  of  the  first  issue. 
It  is  dated  March,  1877.  In  it  I  said :  "  The  Farm 
Journal  will  be  issued  monthly.  It  will  contain  eight 
pages  printed  upon  fine  paper  with  new  and  beauti- 

160 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

ful  type.  It  will  be  devoted  to  the  interest  of  culti- 
vators of  the  soil  residing  in  the  middle  states.  It 
does  not  desire  and  will  not  seek  readers  outside  of 
those  states.  The  Farm  Journal  conceives  that  much 
of  the  contents  of  the  large  agricultural  monthlies  and 
weeklies,  published  in  distant  states  that  undertake  to 
reflect  the  condition  and  progress  of  husbandry  of 
every  section  of  the  Union,  is  not  of  value  to  the  people 
of  this  section;  hence  the  journal  will  regard  alone  that 
which  will  entertain,  instruct,  and  benefit  those  whom 
it  seeks  as  readers  in  its  local  field." 

The  Farm  Journal,  however,  soon  outgrew  that 
idea  and  began  to  reach  out  towards  distant  states. 
I  found  it  possible  to  make  my  paper  interesting  far 
from  the  city  of  its  publication.  There  was  a  way  of 
doing  that  and  I  found  it  out.  I  also  declared  in  this 
initial  circular  "  that  while  the  Farm  Journal  is  not 
so  large  as  some  of  its  contemporaries,  there  is  room 
for  growth,  and  if  sufficient  encouragement  be  re- 
ceived it  will  be  enlarged."  It  then  consisted  of  eight 
pages;  the  issue  of  the  same  month  forty-three  years 
later  contained  one  hundred  and  seventy-two  pages. 

Even  before  the  appearance  of  the  first  number 
of  the  Farm  Journal,  I  said  in  my  circular :  "  The 
Farm  Journal  will  devote  moderate  space  to  adver- 
tisements of  interest  to  rural  people,  but  will  exclude 
all  advertisements  of  a  doubtful  character.  It  will 
not  insert  quack  medical  advertisements  at  any 
price."  Orange  Judd  in  his  paper,  the  American 
Agriculturist,  was  in  advance  of  the  Farm  Journal  in 
a  promise  to  exclude  advertisements  of  a  doubtful 
character;  but  the  Farm  Journal  was,  as  far  as  I 
know,  the  first  to  exclude  all  quack  medical  adver- 
tisements. Father  was  a  subscriber  to  the  American 
Agriculturist  while  I  was  at  home  on  the  Upper 
ii  161 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Dublin  farm,  and  the  paper  was  a  great  favorite  with 
the  whole  family.  It  is  not  unlikely  that,  had  I  not 
been  a  reader  of  Orange  Judd's  paper  in  my  youth, 
I  never  should  have  been  inspired  to  found  the 
Farm  Journal. 

The  Farm  Journal,  when  it  first  appeared  late  in 
February,  1877,  did  not  greatly  excite  the  populace. 
There  was  no  general  scramble  for  a  copy.  The 
Statehouse  bell  was  not  rung.  I  probably  was  more 
excited  than  anyone  else.  I  read  the  issue  with  in- 
terest and  reread  it  several  times  over.  It  was  like 
a  comet  when  first  seen  a  long  way  off  and  only  those 
can  see  who  have  a  telescope  handy.  Even  they 
have  to  scan  the  heavens  closely  on  a  clear  night. 
It  was  in  a  nebulous  state  and  shone  dimly.  Did  it 
at  its  approach  shine  more  brightly  and  come  so 
close  to  the  earth  that  it  could  be  seen  by  the  care- 
less observer  without  the  aid  of  a  telescope?  That 
remains  to  be  seen. 

I  take  down  from  our  files  now  volume  one  of 
the  Farm  Journal,  dated  March,  1877.  I  have  not  ex- 
amined a  copy  in  recent  years,  probably  not  for  a 
quarter  of  a  century.  I  note  that  the  pages  were 
larger  then  than  they  are  now.  There  are  eight 
pages ;  and  of  these,  advertisements  fill  rather  more 
than  one.  John  Wanamaker  has  a  double-column 
display  telling  the  readers  that:  "A  great  event  is 
near  at  hand,"  and  "  The  door  of  the  Grand  Depot  at 
I3th  and  Market  will  swing  open  to  welcome  the 
ladies."  The  enterprising  merchant  further  informed 
my  readers  that  he  "  had  countered  and  shelved  two- 
thirds  of  over  two  acres  and  filled  them  with  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  dollars  worth  of  the  choicest 
dry  goods,  all  under  one  roof  and  all  on  one  floor/' 
There  were  nine  other  advertisements,  and  the 

162 


W.  A. 


FIRST  SUBSCRIBER 


FIRST  ADVERTISER 


FIRST  OFFICE 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

editor  in  several  places  spoke  kindly  of  the  new 
paper.  It  was  published  on  Sansom  Street,  two 
blocks  away  from  the  present  location. 

I  believe  it  will  not  be  inappropriate  for  me  to 
present  to  the  reader  some  of  the  editorial  items 
which  appeared,  since  they  were  of  a  novel  type  and 
from  the  pen  of  the  author  of  this  autobiography. 
The  editor  says :  "  I  will  insert  advertisements  of 
an  unobjectionable  character  at  40  cents  a  line;  no 
lottery  swindlers,  cheap  jewelry  announcements, 
quack  medical  advertisements,  nor  Wall  Street  spec- 
ulators' cards  will  ever  find  admittance  at  any  price. 
I  do  not  intend  to  occupy  much  space  with  puffs  of 
the  Farm  Journal,  leaving  it  for  the  intelligence  of 
the  reader  to  discern  its  merit,  if  any  exists. 
Enough  said.  Send  along  the  25  cents." 

On  the  first  page  there  is  a  picture  of  a  large 
strawberry  recommended  by  William  Parry.  On 
the  second  page  there  is  a  wood-cut  of  a  chicken 
run,  under  glass,  and  a  picture  of  a  lady  with  a 
steaming  pot  of  coffee  in  her  hand,  under  which  is 
the  legend :  "  A  pint  of  coffee  and  a  roll,  5  cents." 
The  text  described  Joshua  L.  Bailey's  Model  Coffee 
House,  31  South  Fourth  Street.  Mr.  Bailey  was  a 
philanthropist  who  conceived  the  idea  that,  if  we 
ask  men  to  abandon  their  beer  and  whiskey,  we  must 
furnish  them  a  substitute  better  in  every  way.  The 
editor  was  interested  and  went  to  the  coffee  house 
sometimes  for  his  mid-day  lunch.  The  description 
of  the  coffee  house  occupied  nearly  a  column,  but  I 
made  no  charge  for  it  because  I  wanted  to  help  a 
good  cause. 

I  turn  to  the  editorial  page  and  find  a  very  brief 
introductory  article.  After  stating  that  the  paper 
would  not  seek  circulation  outside  of  Pennsylvania, 
New  Jersey,  and  Delaware,  I  said  that  "  while  ap- 

163 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

predating  the  difficulties  that  are  sure  to  beset  an 
enterprise  of  this  kind,  we  enter  upon  our  task  cheer- 
fully and  with  hope,  but  knowing-  well  that  in  this 
field  of  labor,  as  in  most  others,  no  one  can  attain 
success  without  earning  it.  The  future  will  deter- 
mine the  question  of  our  success.  More  than  that 
at  present  we  need  not  say,  but  will  let  our  paper 
speak  for  itself  month  by  month,  as  it  shall  appear." 
Under  Topics  in  Season  I  discover  these  lines : 

"  Give  me,  ye  gods,  the  product  of  one  field 
So  that  I  never  may  be  rich  nor  poor, 
And  having  just  enough,  not  covet  more." 

Dryden. 
Under  The  Garden: 

"  Well  must  the  ground  be  digg'd  and  dress'd 
New  soil  to  make  and  ameliorate  the  rest." 

An  offer  of  ten  dollars  was  made  to  the  one  who 
should  send  us  the  best  five  essays1  on  each  of  the 
following  topics,  viz.: 

"  How  to  manage  the  baby." 

"  How  to  manage  children  without  scolding  or 
whipping  them." 

"What  shall  a  farmer's  wife  read  and  when?" 

"  How  shall  the  mother  of  five  or  more  healthy 
children  maintain  a  sweet  temper?" 

"  Name  ten  of  the  most  desirable  flowers  for  the 
embellishment  of  the  lawn  or  garden.  Tell  how  to 
manage  them." 

A  full  column  is  devoted  to  the  Grange  (of  which 
the  editor  was  a  member).  There  are  some  city 
items  such  as : 

"  The  Philadelphia  Almshouse  has  4300  occu- 
pants." 

"  The  statue  of  William  Penn  is  to  crown  the 
164 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

dome  of  the  new  public  buildings.  It  is  to  be  450 
feet  high." 

"About  March  first  the  Market  Street  Pas- 
senger Railway  will  run  steam  cars,  and  street-car 
horses  will  soon  be  among  the  animals  '  that  were.'  " 
"  The  new  bell  goes  up  on  Independence  Hall  about 
March  first." 

Nearly  a  whole  column  appears  under  the  head 
of  "  Humorous."  When  a  boy  I  enjoyed  the  humor- 
ous columns  more  than  any  other.  Here  are  some 
of  the  items : 

"Why  is  old  age  like  a  dog's  tail?  Because  it 
is  infirm." 

"  A  peanut  dealer  states  business  is  at  a  stand  still." 

"  An  old  Scotch  woman  recommended  a  preacher 
who  arrived  at  the  kirk  wet  through,  to  go  at  once 
into  the  pulpit,  saying :  '  Ye'll  be  dry  enough  there.'  " 

"  A  man  recently  knocked  down  an  elephant,  a  lion 
and  a  rhinoceros.  He  was  an  auctioneer." 

"  A  white  boy  met  a  colored  lad  the  other  day  and 
asked  him  what  he  had  such  a  short  nose  for?  '  I 
'spect  so  it  won't  poke  itself  into  other  people's 
business.' " 

"  Said  a  clerk  to  a  young  lady  who  bluntly  asked 
for  stockings  instead  of  hose :  '  What  number  do 
you  wear,  miss? '  She  looked  at  him  for  an  instant 
with  ineffable  scorn.  '  I  wear  two,  sir.  Do  you 
think  I  am  a  centipede?' ' 

"  A  grave-digger,  who  buried  a  Mr.  Button,  put 
the  following  item  in  the  bill  which  he  sent  to  Mrs. 
Button  :  To  making  one  Button  hole,  $5." 

The  office  from  which  the  Farm  Journal  first  ap- 
peared was  not  so  large  as  its  present  home.  I 
occupied  a  room  on  the  second  floor  back  of  726 
Sansom  Street.  The  Saturday  Evening  Post  occu- 
pied the  front  room  and  all  the  rooms  down  stairs. 
My  room  by  actual  measurement  was  fifteen  and 

165 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

three-quarters  feet  by  sixteen  feet,  nearly  square, 
and  it  may  be  noted  that  the  shape  was  appropriate, 
for  it  was  my  intention  to  issue  a  paper  that  would 
always  act  on  the  square  towards  its  readers,  or  quit. 

There  were  two  small  windows  opening  to  the 
south,  which  let  in  the  light.  Within  this  space  were 
the  type  cases  and  the  editorial  sanctum.  The  fur- 
niture consisted  of  a  desk  and  chair  used  by  me,  two 
imposing  stones,  on«  of  which  had  been  brought 
from  the  Wilmington  office,  and  a  small  book-rack 
with  some  books  and  magazines. 

In  June  Charles  F.  Githens  came  to  me  to  act  as 
foreman  of  the  mechanical  part  of  the  business.  He 
says  in  a  recent  letter  to  me  that  he  left  a  twenty- 
dollar  position  to  come  for  twelve  dollars,  for  he 
"  had  an  intuition  that  his  life  work  was  to  be  with 
the  Farm  Journal."  He  was  correct  in  this;  it  was. 
He  says  that  I  asked  him  to  take  charge  of  my  print- 
ing department,  and  that  I  said  in  reply  to  his  appli- 
cation that  "  I  shall  need  a  man  capable  of  setting 
type,  make  and  attend  to  the  fires,  sweep  out  the 
office,  and  in  his  spare  time  help  with  clerical  work." 
When  the  pages  each  month  were  locked  up  ready 
to  go  to  the  printer  they  were  carried  down  stairs 
by  Githens  and  myself,  and  Githens  took  them  away 
in  a  push-cart  to  the  printing  house.  Githens  tells 
of  being  sent  to  collect  a  bill  of  one  dollar  for  adver- 
tising a  force  pump,  taking  a  copy  of  the  paper  to 
prove  that  the  contract  had  been  fulfilled.  He  re- 
turned to  me  with  the  dollar  and  was  sent  at  once 
with  the  money  to  the  postoffice  to  buy  one  hundred 
post  cards,  on  which  he  was  to  print  a  card  advertis- 
ing the  Farm  Journal.  That  is  the  way  the  money 
went.  Such  extravagance!  It  was  a  wonder  the 
Farm  Journal  did  not  die  abornin'.  Githens,  who 
was  an  artist  in  type,  remained  with  the  paper  until 

166 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

his  health  failed  a  few  years  ago,  after  a  long  period 
of  faithful  service. 

Since  I  have  undertaken  to  give  the  reader  the 
genesis  of  the  Farm  Journal,  we  may  together  browse 
a  while  through  the  pages  comprising  volume  one. 
I  made  up  my  mind  early  in  the  progress  of  the 
enterprise  not  to  speak  ill  of  my  rivals  in  business 
and  not  to  pick  quarrels  with  them,  and  to  pay  no 
attention  to  any  criticisms  they  might  pass  upon  the 
Farm  Journal.  Before  I  had  fully  decided  upon  this, 
however,  a  local  competitor  had  the  gall  to  say  after 
seeing  my  first  issue  that  "  farmers  do  not  care  to 
read  agricultural  papers.  They  esteem  only  such 
journals  as  succeed  in  amusing  them  and  diverting 
their  minds  from  their  occupation."  The  inference 
was  that  the  Farm  Journal  had  better  retire  to  the 
peaceful  shades  of  oblivion.  Replying  to  this  fling  I 
said  in  my  paper  for  April — my  second  number — 
that  "  I  do  not  hesitate  to  dissent  from  the  views  of 
my  rival,  but  when  a  single  issue  of  his  paper  which 
is  published  in  a  farming  community  sets  out  a  bill  of 
fare  like  this : 

"  The  Game  of  Love 

"  Mr.  Kingan  Murdered 

"  A  Disappointed  Husband 

"  Capturing  a  Desperado 

"  Escaped  from  a  Snare 

"  Catching  Smallpox  at  a  Masquerade 

"  The  Tragedy  of  Errors 

"  Doctor  Easton's  Infatuation 

"and  when  with  each  succeeding  issue  the  fire  and 
smoke  becomes  more  intense  and  the  brimstone  and 
blood  more  profuse,  it  is  foolish  for  us  to  try  to 
please  rural  readers,  if  they  are  inclined  to  feed  on 
such  raw  stuff  as  that.  We  shall  still  hope,  how- 

167 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

ever,  that  the  bill  of  fare  we  shall  offer  will  be  ap- 
proved by  the  agricultural  public." 

This  was  about  the  last  time  in  all  my  experi- 
ence as  editor  of  the  Farm  Journal  that  I  ever  had  a 
scrap  with  another  paper.  I  thought  it  was  in  bad 
taste  to  have  bickerings  aired  in  public. 

The  June  number  records  the  disposal  of  the 
Saturday  Evening  Post  at  sheriff's  sale.  I  said:  "  We 
own  that  this  is  coming  close  to  the  sheriff's  hammer 
(we  being  on  the  same  floor),  but  if  our  country 
friends  will  continue  to  punish  us  with  remittance 
of  their  spare  quarters  we  shall  escape  the  trouble 
that  has  afflicted  our  neighbor.  Now  as  we  are  the 
only  occupants  of  the  building  we  think  we  will  call 
the  structure  the  Farm  Journal  Building."  But  as  we 
were  cramped  for  space  in  our  one  square  room,  we 
decided  to  move  to  some  building  where  we  would 
have  a  better  opportunity  for  expansion.  After  a 
time  the  Saturday  Evening  Post  was  bought  by  the 
Curtis  Publishing  Company. 

Under  Topics  in  Season  in  the  June  issue  I  said: 
"  Somebody  writes  to  ask  how  long  cows  should  be 
milked.  Why  the  same  as  short  cows,  of  course." 
Also  in  the  same  issue  I  said :  "  The  Farm  Journal 
had  a  distinguished  visitor  a  few  days  ago  in  the 
person  of  an  aged  potato  beetle,  who  was  found  half 
way  up  the  office  steps,  and  was  slowly  ascending 
when  he  met  with  an  accident  that  terminated  his 
life.  His  errand,  therefore,  is  not  known,  whether 
he  came  to  get  intelligence  in  regard  to  the  potato 
crop,  bring  a  club  from  Beetleville,  or  to  order  the 
paper  stopped  will  never  be  ascertained."  Such 
little  pleasantries  were  thought  to  be  useful  in  dif- 
ferentiating the  Farm  Journal  from  the  papers  that 
are  mournful  and  solemn  throughout. 

In  the  September  number  we  offered  to  do  job 
168 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

printing,  and  we  assured  our  customers  of  artistic 
work,  terms  cash  on  or  before  delivery. 

In  October  I  said :  "  The  American  Agriculturist 
was  never  better  than  now,  and  that,  as  our  readers 
know,  is  saying  a  good  deal.  In  fact,  it  is  the  best 
agricultural  paper  in  the  world."  This  was  a  little 
hard  on  the  Farm  Journal. 

The  December  number  hailed  from  914  Arch  Street, 
Philadelphia.  I  had  moved  into  larger  quarters,  my 
growing  business  requiring  it.  Here,  on  the  second 
floor,  I  had  a  room  three  times  as  large  as  the  old 
square  room.  Here  also  I  started  a  Farmers'  Ex- 
change and  had  all  sorts  of  farm  and  household 
machinery  on  exhibition.  This  was  not  much  of  a 
success.  The  exhibits  got  covered  with  dust,  and 
few  came  to  look  them  over. 

By  this  time  I  had  the  Household  Department 
going  in  fine  shape.  Here  is  a  stanza  from  that 
department  for  June : 

This  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

The  baby  that  cannot  talk ! 

The  baby  that  cannot  walk ! 

The  baby  that  has  begun  to  creep  ; 

The  baby  that's  cradled  and  rocked  asleep ; 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

The  Mother  of  the  Child. 

What  mother  amongst  our  subscribers  could  not 
say  "  Amen  "  to  that?  I  was  after  the  mothers,  and 
the  daughters,  too. 

The  veteran  editor  of  the  GermOntown  Telegraph 
in  a  brief  note  said  :  "  Thank  you,  neighbor,  for  your 
words  of  cheer  and  kindliness." 

In  the  February  number  I  had  an  editorial  advis- 
ing that  foreigners  should  not  be  indiscriminately 

169 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

admitted  into  the  country.  I  said :  "  Against  foreign 
immigration  of  the  right  sort  we  have  nothing  to 
say ;  we  welcome  it  and  bid  it  come.  Every  intelli- 
gent, virtuous,  industrious  foreigner,  whatever  his 
nationality,  if  he  seek  our  shores  to  better  his  con- 
dition, with  a  purpose  also  to  become  a  good  citizen, 
we  make  way  for;  though  we  may  not  particularly 
need  him,  we  will  divide  our  inheritance  with  him 
and  grant  him  room  to  work  out  a  better  destiny 
than  any  afforded  by  any  of  the  monarchies  of  the 
Old  World.  We  give  him  the  right  hand  of  fellow- 
ship and  bid  him  go  to  work  in  the  virgin  fields  of 
our  great  country.  But  let  us  stop  here ;  the  vicious, 
the  ignorant,  the  idle,  must  no  longer  come.  We 
have  more  of  these  elements  now  than  we  can  con- 
trol ;  they  control  us.  The  standard  of  morality  in 
this  country  is  none  too  high,  nor  is  it  likely  to  be 
raised  until  our  policy  in  respect  to  foreign  immi- 
gration undergoes  a  change.  We  must  establish  a 
quarantine  at  every  seaport  for  testing  the  moral 
health  of  every  immigrant  and  require  him  to  show 
wherein  he  is  worthy,  by  reason  of  virtue,  intelli- 
gence, and  good  past  conduct,  to  become  a  fit  sub- 
ject for  our  hospitality.  If  there  is  any  that  cannot  stand 
the  test,  let  him  be  turned  back;  we  have  no  room 
for  him.  While  we  might  possibly  better  his  con- 
dition, we  would  do  so  at  the  expense  of  our  own, 
and  this  we  can  no  longer  afford." 

I  wrote  this  advice  forty-two  years  ago  and  it 
ought  to  have  been  taken.  I  gave  it  to  the  public 
at  the  modest  cost  of  less  than  three  cents  a  copy. 
This  proves  that  nations  as  well  as  individuals  fail 
to  profit  by  the  well-meant  admonition  of  those  who 
have  their  interests  at  heart. 

In  the  May  number  I  offered  one  hundred  dol- 
lars for  the  largest  yield  of  corn  per  acre.  The  offer 

170 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

was  made  to  the  farmers  of  seven  states.  Anyone 
who  succeeded  in  raising  one  hundred  bushels  per 
acre  must  tell  the  Farm  Journal  how  he  did  it.  Also 
in  this  issue  I  folded  a  four-page  sheet  full  of  what 
subscribers  say  of  my  paper.  This  is  what  I  said  by 
way  of  introduction :  "  As  we  do  not  require  the  sub- 
scriber to  pay  any  of  the  expense  of  this  extra  sheet, 
no  one  can  justly  complain  that  we  have  encroached 
upon  his  rights." 

I  present  here  a  few  of  the  many  messages 
received : 

I  am  highly  pleased  with  it. — B.  L.  Barlow,  Bayou 
Sara,  La. 

It  is  truly  multum  in  parvo. — J.  Warren  Harn, 
Shaker  Village,  N.  H. 

It  is  just  what  I  want  and  what  every  farmer 
ought  to  have. — W.  H.  Simpson,  Moscow,  Pa. 

We  get  more  for  our  money  than  from  any  other 
agricultural  paper  published. — Thomas  Shallcross, 
Byberry,  Pa. 

Wilmer  Atkinson's  Farm  Journal  is  a  decidedly 
fresh  sheet  and  a  miracle  of  cheapness. — Norristown 
(Pa.)  Herald. 

Wilmer  Atkinson's  Farm  Journal  is  rapidly  gaining 
in  public  favor. — Newtown  (Pa.)  Enterprise. 

You  are  issuing  a  bright,  lively  paper,  and  I  hope 
it  is  paying  you  well. — D.  D.  T.  Moore,  founder  of 
Rural  New  Yorker,  and  agricultural  editor  of  the  New 
York  World. 

Send  your  spicy  paper  to  me. — George  Jackson, 
Indianapolis,  Ind. 

It  is  bright  and  sparkling,  bristling  all  over  with 
useful  articles. — Delaware  (Pa.)  Republican. 

I  pronounce  it  good  sense  in  small  doses. — G.  B. 
Pickering,  Fishers,  Ontario  County,  N.  Y. 

171 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

I  am  pleased  with  general  get-up  and  contribu- 
tions.— S.  S.  Grubb,  Baraboo,  Wis. 

I  consider  it  the  best  paper  for  the  money  I  have 
ever  seen. — Nelson  P.  Payne,  New  Britain,  Conn. 

It  is  the  juiciest  sheet  I  know  of,  and  is  as  full  of 
good  things  as  an  egg  is  of  meat. — Samuel  Pennock, 
Ithaca,  N.  Y. 

Its  literary  quality  is  A  No.  I.  The  paper  is  good 
and  the  typographic  impress  faultless. — Lancaster 
Farmer. 

I  am  going  to  do  my  best  to  get  subscribers  in 
my  neighborhood. — Webb  Charles,  Mt.  Healthy, 
Ohio. 

I  must  say  that  it  contains  more  practical  matter 
and  good  sense  than  any  paper  I  have  ever  read. — 
S.  B.  Wells,  Atkins,  Vt. 

We  do  not  know  of  an  agricultural  paper  we  were 
more  pleased  with  than  Wilmer  Atkinson's  Farm 
Journal. — North  Wales  Record. 

I  have  just  read  it  through,  and  find  it  is  so  well 
boiled  down  that  it  gives  as  much  as  many  of  the  big 
papers. — Ed.  G.  Underbill,  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y. 

My  father,  an  old  farmer,  who  has  taken  farm 
papers  for  fifty  years,  says  it  is  one  of  the  most  use- 
ful he  ever  saw. — John  McCoy,  Franklin,  W.  Va. 

There  is  a  good  reason  for  placing  these  en- 
comiums before  the  reader  of  this  book,  and  it  is 
this:  I  wish  to  show  how  it  came  to  pass  that  the 
Farm  Journal  developed  into  a  journal  of  national 
circulation  after  I  had  so  often  declared  its  purpose 
to  be  simply  that  of  a  local  paper  published  solely 
for  the  farmers  of  the  Middle  States.  It  will  be  ob- 
served that  many  of  these  pleasant  messages  came 
from  distant  states,  indicating  to  me  that  a  wider 
field  was  opening  for  the  Farm  Journal,  that  the 
whole  country  was  eventually  to  become  my  stamp- 

172 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

ing  ground.  I  will  not  acknowledge  that  these  are 
presented  because  of  an  exaggerated  ego  on  my  part. 
I  print  these  extracts  for  the  reason  given  above. 
They  made  me  think  that  possibly  I  might  become 
a  successful  editor  of  a  national  farm  paper;  at  any 
rate,  they  were  an  inspiration  to  me  and  bade 
me  proceed. 

In  June,  1878, 1  announced  that  the  Farm  Journal 
would  soon  be  enlarged,  that  several  new  features 
would  be  added,  and  that  the  paper  would  be  greatly 
improved  in  every  particular.  The  enlarged  paper 
was  to  be  fifty  cents  a  year,  but  those  who  would 
have  their  names  enrolled  now  and  those  who  would 
renew  would  receive  the  paper  one  year  at  the  pres- 
ent price — twenty-five  cents  a  year  and  no  chromos. 

In  July  I  wrote  a  short  article  entitled  "  Bother," 
in  which  I  said :  "  Wanted,  a  chap  to  cut  the  fire- 
wood in  harvest  time.  Somehow  or  other  the  fellow 
is  hard  to  find.  And  so  the  good  farmer's  wife  goes 
out  in  search  of  chips,  corn-cobs,  old  broom  handles, 
broken  buckets,  and  anything  else  that  may  fall  in 
her  way.  Sometimes  in  her  journey  she  stops  and 
seizing  the  axe  gives  some  knotty  chunk  of  wood  a 
few  prodigious  whacks  and  then  goes  on  her  way, 
often  with  a  black  eye,  for  sticks  will  fly  up  when  a 
woman  lowers  an  axe.  Oh,  for  a  man  about  this 
time !  But  there  is  no  man  outside  of  the  harvest 
field.  Good  wife,  have  patience,  and  stick  to  the 
cobs  and  chips  until  the  last  sheaf  of  oats  goes  to 
the  barn." 

In  October  the  promised  enlargement  to  sixteen 
pages  took  place.  In  my  announcement  I  said  that 
"  the  pages  will  be  somewhat  reduced  in  size,  with 
slightly  narrower  columns,  making  a  form  more 
suitable  for  binding  than  the  old,  and  affording 
nearly  double  the  amount  of  reading  matter  hereto- 

173 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

fore  presented.  Of  the  proposed  improvements  we 
prefer  not  to  speak  at  length,  only  declaring  that  we 
retain  our  purpose  of  treating  matters  in  season,  and 
concisely ;  of  being  practical  instead  of  theoretical ; 
of  presenting  a  cold  shoulder  to  fancy  farming;  of 
offering  the  reader  cream  instead  of  skim-milk;  of 
giving  no  chromos ;  of  puffing  no  humbugs  ;  of  print- 
ing no  patent  or  other  swindling  advertisements ;  and 
of  not  filling  one-half  of  the  paper  with  praise  of  the 
other  half.  Those  who  like  our  platform  we  shall 
retain  as  readers;  those  who  do  not,  may  leave  us." 
I  have  before  me  volume  two  opening  with  Octo- 
ber, 1878.  There  are  now  sixteen  pages  instead  of 
eight,  the  pages  a  little  larger  than  at  first,  but  just 
the  size  they  are  now  in  1920.  At  this  time  I  placed 
on  the  editorial  page  the  head  of  a  dog — a  mastiff — 


THE  FARM  JOURNAL  MASTIFF 


and  I  said :  "  Under  this  head  the  Farm  Journal  will  do 
its  growling.  It  will,  however,  be  careful  to  growl  at 
nobody  that  is  worthy  of  better  treatment.  Our  dog 
will  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  tramps,  all  kinds  of 
travelling  humbugs  and  humbugs  that  do  not  travel, 
but  proper  persons  and  things  will  not  be  molested. 
When  any  of  our  readers  come  across  persons  or 
objects  entitled  to  our  dog's  wrath  we  hope  they 
will  send  us  immediate  word.  Whenever  the  occa- 
sion demands  it  we  will  unchain  the  animal."  For 
over  forty  years  our  watchdog  has  been  on  duty. 

The  household  department  was  much  enlarged 
and  developed.  I  early  saw  that  one  of  the  fields  to 
cultivate  comprised  the  firesides  of  America;  women 

174 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

and  children — as  well  as  the  men — must  come  within 
the  fold.  It  was  in  the  October  number  that  I  first 
printed  the  legend :  "  The  Homes  of  a  Nation  Are 
Its  Strongest  Forts."  Under  this  line  I  placed  a 
lighted  candle,  and  below  the  candle  I  said :  "  Our 
grandmothers'  homes  were  lighted  by  tallow  dips. 
Our  Revolutionary  fathers,  all  the  great  men  who 
have  honorably  figured  in  American  history,  when 
little  boys,  were  put  to  bed  either  in  the  dark  or  by 
the  light  of  candles.  No  one  should  despise  candles, 
but  should  regard  them  with  feelings  of  veneration, 
and  even  of  affection.  We  so  regard  them.  Even 
now  no  home  is  perfect  without  them.  The  light 
they  give  forth,  though  not  brilliant,  is  pure  and  con- 
stant (use  snuffers),  and  those  on  whom  it  shines 
may  be  sure  that  there  will  be  no  explosion  that  will 
raise  the  roof  off  the  house  and  burn  up  the  family. 
And  it  is  in  honor  of  the  peaceful  'light  of  other 
days,'  that  we  have  set  a  candle  at  the  head  of  the 
Household  Department,  where  we  intend  it  shall 
remain — until  we  alter  our  present  purpose — as  a  re- 
minder to  our  readers  of  those  good  old  times  in 
which  our  forefathers  lived." 

In  the  November  number  I  said :  "  We  have  re- 
ceived a  large  pile  of  letters  speaking  in  warm  terms 
of  praise  of  our  enlarged  paper.  We  like  those  people 
who  like  our  paper,  but  our  affection  is  stronger  for 
those  better  folks  who  are  always  stirring  up  their 
neighbors  and  urging  them  to  subscribe." 

In  another  column  I  said :  "  Agents  wanted  at 
every  post  office  in  the  United  States  for  the  Farm 
Journal.  Send  for  particulars."  In  this  issue  I  also 
said :  "  While  Uncle  Sam  is  rich  enough  to  give  us 
all  a  farm,  as  the  song  goes,  is  he  rich  enough  to  set 
up  in  unprofitable  business  all  the  rest  of  creation? 
Does  it  not  behoove  us  to  restrain  the  old  gentleman 

i75 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

a  little  as  he  squanders  his  benediction  on  the  whole 
world?  A  reckless  and  indiscriminate  disposal  of 
bounties  upon  strangers  (foreigners)  without  proper 
credentials  is  not  wise,  and  had  better  be  abandoned, 
before  it  is  too  late  to  save  enough  of  the  estate  to 
keep  the  rightful  heirs  out  of  the  almshouse." 

I  printed  in  the  January  number  of  1879  *his  item 
from  Indiana :  "  From  your  style  I  think  you  must 
be  a  funny  fellow,  and  I  shall  go  and  have  a  good 
stare  at  you  when  I  come  to  Philadelphia."  Not  so 
very  funny ;  but  we  never  did  think  that  a  farm 
paper  to  be  useful  must  be  dull.  Also  I  printed  this 
in  the  January  number:  "  If  you  like  our  paper,  say 
so ;  it  cheers  us.  If  you  don't  like  it,  say  so ;  it  checks 
our  vanity.  In  either  case  the  effect  will  be  beneficial." 

The  February  number,  1879,  marks  the  close  of 
the  second  year,  a  fact  which  led  me  to  print  the  fol- 
lowing: "  With  the  present  number  closes  the  second 
year  of  the  life  of  the  Farm  Journal.  Having  cut 
several  eye-teeth  and  passed  safely  through  its 
second  summer,  it  deems  itself  a  pretty  vigorous 
and  healthy  infant  as  it  steps  into  its  third  year. 
Our  readers,  who  fell  in  love  with  the  baby  in  the 
beginning  and  yet  maintain  an  unabated  affection, 
we  hope  will  stand  fast  friends  to  the  coming  season 
of  whips,  pockets,  breeches  and  boots,  and  so  on  to  a 
full  and  robust  maturity." 

"  Advertisements  have  increased  very  little ;  we 
never  go  out  to  beg  for  them  nor  send  anybody.  We 
are  after  circulation." 

In  looking  over  the  volume  covering  the  first 
three  years  I  note  a  lot  of  atrociously  bad  house 
plans  that  I  seemed  to  be  trying  to  palm  off  on  my 
readers.  I  am  sorry.  If  there  be  a  man  alive  who 
copied  any  of  them  I  ask  his  forgiveness. 

I  note  in  the  Publishing  Department  for  March 
176 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

this :  "  Mr.  "Wilmer  Atkinson :  If  I  am  correct  in 
my  count  the  three  subscriptions  forwarded  you  to- 
day make  60  for  the  Farm  Journal  that  I  have  sent 
you.  As  they  are  all  in  my  immediate  neighborhood 
I  made  it  my  business  to  inquire  of  them  when  we 
met  what  they  thought  of  it,  and  without  an  excep- 
tion they  are  pleased  with  it.  They  say  they  get 
more  useful  information  from  the  journal  on  the 
subject  on  which  it  treats  than  any  other  paper  at 
any  price.  (Signed)  A.  Hughes,  Elk  Mills,  Pa." 

By  this  time  I  was  becoming  cramped  for  space 
at  914  and  was  getting  ready  to  move.  The  next  num- 
ber was  published  from  144  North  Seventh  Street. 
Here  I  had  the  entire  building,  but  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore I  had  to  move  again  to  a  more  spacious  building. 

In  the  following  number  I  explained  why  I  re- 
moved from  Arch  Street,  my  two  reasons  being  that 
my  new  location  cost  fifteen  dollars  a  month  less, 
and  that  I  had  more  room.  I  said :  "  The  office  is 
now  on  the  first  floor,  so  our  friends  can  find  us 
without  mounting  a  high  flight  of  stairs,  a  task  often 
complained  of  by  our  stout  and  elderly  visitors  to 
the  old  place."  My  attempt  to  establish  the  Farmers' 
Exchange  proved  a  failure,  partly  because  of  the 
rapid  growth  of  my  publishing  business,  but  mainly 
because  I  was  not  qualified  for  that  kind  of  under- 
taking. I  said :  "  My  paper  does  not  yet  come  up  to 
my  high  ideal  by  a  long  way,  but  I  promise  that  en- 
couragement from  you  will  be  a  stimulus  that  will 
surely  make  the  paper  better  month  by  month  until 
it  shall  stand  in  the  high  rank  in  which  I  hope  to 
place  it." 

The  June  number  contained  the  name  of  Jacob 
Biggie  for  the  first  time.  There  was  a  simple  an- 
nouncement that  probably  the  next  issue  would 
contain  an  article  from  his  pen.  My  readers  might 
12  177 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

prepare,  therefore,  for  an  addition  to  their  knowl- 
edge. True  to  the  promise,  the  July  number  did 
contain  an  article  from  Jacob  Biggie.  Only  a  few 
issues  since  have  appeared  without  such  an  article. 
We  call  him  Judge  Biggie ;  his  wife  is  Harriet.  Hus- 
band and  wife  had  long  nursed  the  idea  that  some 
day  they  would  go  back  to  the  country  and  spend 
there,  in  quietness,  peace,  and  plenty,  the  remainder 
of  their  lives.  They  bought  a  farm  of  one  hundred 
and  eleven  acres  and  paid  one  hundred  and  forty-six 
dollars  per  acre  for  it.  The  experience  acquired  on 
this  farm  has  been  freely  given  to  our  readers  from 
month  to  month.  The  judge  had  been  a  farm  boy 
before  going  into  business  in  the  city. 

It  was  in  the  July  number,  1879,  that  I  announced 
new  terms  for  the  paper.  "  One  subscription,  fifty 
cents;  two  for  sixty  cents;  four  for  one  dollar."  I 
said  that  I  would  adhere  to  these  rates  and  would 
give  no  chromos,  no  microscopes,  no  wash-boilers, 
jack-knives,  thermometers,  Alderney  cows,  brass 
watches  nor  dictionaries;  that  I  required  cash,  but 
only  a  little — one  dollar  for  four  subscriptions. 
Right  along  I  offered  to  take  postage  stamps  instead 
of  cash  for  subscriptions.  In  consequence  I  re- 
ceived many  stamps,  to  count  and  assort,  and  I  had 
to  call  to  my  aid  my  wife  and  daughters  who  kept 
them  counted,  placed  in  envelopes  and  labelled.  I 
never  asked  my  family  to  help  in  anything  without 
receiving  a  ready  acquiescence. 

I  was  then  getting  quite  a  number  of  city  sub- 
scriptions without  any  effort,  and  the  two  older 
children  delivered  some  of  them  near  our  home.  On 
one  occasion  they  called  to  leave  a  paper  at  a  phy- 
sician's house,  and  the  older  one,  seeing  a  speaking 
tube  which  was  meant  for  night  calls,  blew  through 
it  much  to  the  surprise  of  the  whole  family  inside, 

178 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

who,  with  the  doctor,  came  rushing  down  to  the 
door  to  see  what  was  the  urgency.  On  another  occa- 
sion they  got  their  heads  turned,  being  strangers  to 
the  streets,  and  took  a  car  going  to  the  Navy  Yard, 
while  their  errand  was  in  the  opposite  direction. 
Fearing  that  they  were  going  too  far,  they  alighted 
from  the  car  and  inquired  of  a  gentleman  where 
Green  Street  was,  and  were  told :  "  Well,  the  Green 
Street  I  know  is  two  miles  in  the  other  direction 
from  where  you  are  going."  After  that  wife  and  I 
thought  they  were  rather  small  for  the  business,  and 
had  better  be  relieved  from  further  deliveries. 

In  the  September  number  I  said :  "  What  this 
country  needs  is  fewer  lawyers  and  more  working 
farmers  in  the  halls  of  legislation ;  fewer  politicians 
and  more  mules  in  the  country." 

It  was  in  the  December  number,  1879,  that  I  first 
declared  the  Farm  Journal  to  be  "  Unlike  Any  Other 
Paper."  This  slogan,  being  true,  has  been  main- 
tained and  constantly  used  down  to  this  day.  This 
month  I  was  sending  out  many  sample  copies  to 
persons  whose  names  and  addresses  I  had  obtained 
through  the  summer  and  fall,  saying  to  them  that 
my  platform  was :  "  The  Farm  Journal  is  devoted  to 
the  interest  of  practical  and  profitable  agriculture. 
The  editor  was  reared  upon  a  farm ;  the  paper  treats 
upon  matters  that  are  in  season;  it  avoids  political 
and  religious  topics;  it  boils  things  down,  putting 
nothing  into  its  columns  only  to  fill  up,  and  it  gets 
practical  farmers  and  farmers'  wives  to  tell  each 
other,  through  the  Farm  Journal,  how  to  do  things 
the  easiest  and  best  way  on  the  farm  and  in  the 
home.  Moreover,  the  Farm  Journal  is  about  the  only 
paper  in  this  country  that  absolutely  rejects  all 
patent  medicine  advertisements  and  makes  war  upon 
lottery  swindlers,  Wall  Street  operators,  and  hum- 

179 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

bugs  generally.  The  above  claims  are  put  forth  in 
the  most  emphatic  manner,  and  any  person  who 
likes  our  platform  is  cordially  invited  to  send  for 
the  paper,  and  anybody  that  does  not  like  it  had 
better  not  subscribe." 

In  the  June  number,  1880,  I  said:  "It  is  obvi- 
ously impossible  to  assist  all  our  many  thousands  of 
subscribers  this  year  in  their  hay  and  harvest  fields. 
The  editor  is  reluctantly  compelled  to  decline  all  in- 
vitations of  that  kind  coming  from  any  quarter  what- 
soever. To  help  some  and  not  others  might  give 
offence,  and  this  we  would  avoid.  Please  excuse  us 
this  time." 

Now  I  come  to  the  October  number,  1880.  Here 
for  the  first  time  appeared  my  Fair  Play  notice, 
which  formed  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  paper's  his- 
tory in  all  the  years  following,  and  which  was  to 
contribute  greatly  to  the  success  of  the  paper,  and 
eventually  to  change  the  attitude  of  all  publishers 
in  the  United  States  towards  their  readers  in  respect 
to  protecting  them  from  fraudulent  adventurers. 
This  is  the  notice :  "  We  believe  through  careful 
inquiry  that  all  the  advertisements  in  this  paper  are 
signed  by  trustworthy  persons,  and  to  prove  our 
faith  by  works  we  will  make  good  to  subscribers 
any  loss  sustained  by  trusting  advertisers  that  prove 
to  be  deliberate  swindlers.  Rogues  shall  not  ply 
their  trade  at  the  expense  of  our  readers  who  are  our 
friends,  through  the  medium  of  these  columns.  Let 
this  be  understood  by  everybody  now  and  henceforth." 

No  publisher  in  the  United  States  had  ever  made 
such  an  offer.  No  matter,  I  meant  it.  I  was  shoulder- 
ing great  responsibilities.  No  matter,  I  had  been 
doing  that  all  my  life.  There  might  be  risk  in  it. 
No  matter,  it  was  right. 

Besides  the  appearance  of  the  Fair  Play  notice 
180 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

in  the  October  number,  the  paper  was  dressed  up  in 
tinted  paper  and  had  a  new  heading.  The  same 
with  slight  changes  we  have  now.  The  dignified  old 
stone  mansion  in  the  center  is  a  true  picture  of  the  home 
of  General  Anthony  Wayne  of  the  Revolutionary  army, 
built  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 

In  October  I  said  in  regard  to  the  above  changes : 
"  Our  readers  may  take  the  improvements  as  a  mani- 
festation of  a  determined  purpose  to  excel  in  our 
vocation,  and  to  print  not  only  the  most  practical, 
most  useful  and  the  cheapest,  but  the  handsomest 
agricultural  and  household  paper  in  this  or  any  other 
country.  They  will  observe  that  we  take  high  aim, 
that  our  arm  is  steady,  that  our  finger  is  on  the 
trigger,  and  that  we  expect  to  hit  the  mark." 

In  the  November  number  I  announced  new  sub- 
scription rates,  saying:  "The  Farm  Journal  is  fifty 
cents  a  year  or  eight  copies  for  two  dollars.  We  do 
not  send  two  copies  for  sixty  cents  as  formerly." 

Under  the  heading  "  Buttermilk,"  I  said : 

"  A  beehive  is  the  poorest  thing  in  the  world  to  fall 
back  on." 

"  A  short-tailed  dog  is  unable  to  express  his  feel- 
ings without  great  exertion." 

"  After  a  young  man  pops  the  question  he  then 
must  question  the  pop." 

"  A  man  out  west  was  offered  a  plate  of  macaroni 
soup,  but  declined  it,  declaring  they  couldn't  play  off 
any  boiled  pipe-stems  on  him." 

"  '  Sleep  on,  loved  one  ' — this  is  the  language  of 
the  first  four  months ;  after  that :  '  Get  up,  Sallie,  and 
get  the  breakfast ;  I  am  hungrier  than  a  bear.'  " 

In  the  December  number  I  said:  "  Our  paper  this 
month  will  have  fully  two  hundred  thousand  new 
(sample  copy)  readers  in  the  great  West."  This 

181 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

means  that  I  was  reaching  out  for  a  large  increase 
in  circulation.  I  continued  to  push  for  subscrip- 
tions, letting  advertising  take  care  of  itself.  In  the 
next  issue  I  said.  "  We  aim  to  build  up  a  circulation 
of  100,000  copies,  and  shall  not  stop  trying  until  we 
succeed.  Give  us  a  lift."  In  this  number  I  also  said : 
"  One  great  pressing  need  of  the  American  farmer 
is  a  bottle  of  free-flowing  black  ink,  a  quire  or  two 
of  fine  letter  or  note  paper,  and  a  good  pen  that  will 
not  splutter."  Thus  equipped  they  were  more  apt 
to  take  the  Farm  Journal. 

During  the  winter  of  '80  and  '81,  I  had  twenty- 
five  clerks  employed,  and  they  were  kept  busy.  Up 
to  this  time  I  did  my  own  letter  writing,  having,  of 
course,  no  stenographer  or  typewriter,  as  they  were 
not  available  then.  I  had  not  even  a  longhand 
amanuensis.  I  advertised  for  the  latter  and  ob- 
tained a  young  lady  who  gave  me  a  fictitious  name 
because  she  did  not  want  her  friends  to  hear  that 
she  was  taking  a  clerical  position.  It  was  not  in  the 
fashion  then.  What  a  change  since  that  time!  A 
few  years  later,  when  typewriting  came  in,  I  em- 
ployed my  first  stenographer,  and  she  was  the  only 
one  I  had  for  a  year  or  two.  One  day  she  showed 
me  a  piece  of  leather  she  was  carrying,  made,  she 
said,  out  of  human  skin.  After  that  I  soon  let  her 
go,  fearing  she  had  a  factory  somewhere  for  tanning 
leather,  and  as  an  adjunct  thereto  a  place  where 
men  were  taken  to  be  denuded  to  supply  hide  for 
her  tannery.  The  Farm  Journal  could  then  get  along 
with  one  stenographer  and  typewriter ;  now  we  have 
over  twenty  and  cannot  keep  up  with  our  work. 

The  great  drive  for  circulation  during  the  months 
of  December  and  January  resulted  in  the  addition  of 
twenty  thousand  additional  names  to  my  subscrip- 
tion list.  So  I  said :  "  In  appreciation  of  the  friends 

182 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

who  have  so  kindly  contributed  to  this  gratifying 
result  I  would,  were  I  a  woman,  '  go  upstairs  and 
have  a  good  cry.' "  In  the  March  number,  1881,  I 
said:  "  The  Farm  Journal  is  in  its  fifth  year;  it  is  a 
healthy,  sprightly  youngster  with  pockets,  boots,  a 
drum  and  a  whip.  Aprons  have  been  put  aside. 
Look  out  for  a  racket  now !  " 

My  office  was  very  busy  in  March  at  the  advent 
of  the  sixth  year  of  publication,  and  this  led  me  to 
say:  "If  any  person  thinks  it  quite  an  easy  job  to 
edit  a  paper  single  handed,  and  at  the  same  time 
direct  the  details  of  publication,  as  we  do,  let  him 
try  it.  Yet  we  must  confess  that  we  like  it  as  well 
as  weeding  onions  or  plowing  stumpy  land  with  a 
pair  of  skittish  horses." 

In  answer  to  a  two-line  advertisement  in  a  city 
paper  for  a  lady  clerk,  in  December  of  this  year, 
there  came  to  my  office  a  young  girl  fresh  from  high 
school,  who  ultimately  developed  into  an  expert 
manager  of  the  clerical  department  of  the  Farm 
Journal.  By  reason  of  the  quick  intelligence  with 
which  she  grasped  the  work  assigned  her,  her  com- 
mon sense,  her  sound  judgment,  her  lady-like  man- 
ners, and  her  beautiful  penmanship,  she  soon  took 
high  rank  in  the  office.  When  the  person  then  in 
charge  left  me  to  be  married,  this  lady,  Miss  S. 
Alverda  Westerman,  was  given  the  position  which 
she  holds  after  thirty-nine  years  of  devoted  service. 

On  the  editorial  page  I  called  attention  to  our 
method  of  protecting  our  readers  from  the  tricks  of 
dishonest  advertisers,  saying:  "  Our  advertisers  are 
the  very  cream  of  the  land,  selected  and  sifted  with 
the  greatest  care,  personally,  by  the  publisher,  and 
known  to  be  doing  a  legitimate  business.  Sub- 
scribers are  protected  from  the  wiles  of  scoundrels, 
for  we  give  our  bottom  dollar  to  save  from  loss  any 

183 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

subscriber  who  is  deliberately  swindled  by  any  dis- 
honest advertiser  who  may  manage  by  some  device 
to  creep  into  our  columns.  No  other  agricultural 
paper  in  the  world  does  this,  but  we  intend  to  do  it 
as  long  as  we  print  a  paper.  Over  twenty-five  hun- 
dred dollars'  worth  of  advertising  of  a  doubtful  char- 
acter was  refused  admission  to  these  columns 
through  1880  and  1881,  and  we  think  this  ought  to  be 
a  pretty  good  endorsement  of  those  who  are  now  in. 
And  here  let  us  say  to  advertisers:  '  Don't  ask  for 
puffs ;  we  haven't  room  for  them ;  our  first  duty  is 
to  our  readers ;  we  shall  be  faithful  to  them ;  and 
being  so  we  can  be  of  the  greatest  possible  service 
to  you.' " 

We  were  so  cramped  with  our  work  during  the 
winter  of  '81  and  '82  that  it  was  necessary  to  find 
larger  quarters,  so  I  made  this  announcement:  "  On 
or  about  the  I5th  of  the  month  I  will  remove  to  125 
North  Ninth  Street,  where  I  will  have  room  from 
which  to  send  out  with  punctuality  our  monthly 
messenger  to  our  promised  100,000  subscribers."  I 
needed  the  whole  building  for  my  clerical  work,  the 
printing  still  being  done  outside.  At  the  head  of  the 
first  page  of  the  May  number  appeared  the  new 
address,  also  on  the  first  page  this  big  talk  of  the 
editor:  "  We  ought  to  have  that  100,000  subscribers 
within  the  next  thirty  days.  There  appears  to  be  no 
good  reason  why  we  may  not.  If  our  readers  should 
guess  that  we  now  have  80,000  they  would  be  pretty 
close  to  the  mark.  Now  about  that  other  20,000! 
Good  friends,  let  us  have  your  answer,  and  let  it 
be  prompt  and  conclusive.  Shall  we  have  our 
100,000  sure?" 

There  was  always  something  spicy  under  "  But- 
termilk " ;  for  instance : 

"  A  touch  of  humor  makes  the  whole  world  chin." 
184 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

"  Sallie  Jenkins  says  when  she  was  in  love  she 
felt  as  if  she  was  in  a  railway  tunnel  with  a  train  of 
cars  coming  both  ways." 

"  Most  of  the  cucumbers  now  in  the  city  markets 
come  from  the  South ;  they  are  the  cause  of  a  great 
deal  of  sectional  feeling." 

"  A  western  paper  says  that  a  child  was  run  over 
by  a  wagon  three  years  old,  cross-eyed,  with  pan- 
talettes on,  which  never  spoke  afterwards." 

In  the  June  number  the  editor  stated  that  he 
would  undertake  a  tour  of  the  West,  so  preparation 
of  the  August  number  might  be  delayed,  and  he 
hoped  that  readers  would  not  mind  a  little  delay.  He 
said  in  the  July  number:  "  While  this  paper  is  being 
scanned  by  its  400,000  readers,  the  editor  will  be  on 
his  western  journey  and  beyond  the  Mississippi.  He 
travels  in  search  of  knowledge  to  be  used  for  the 
entertainment  and  instruction  of  all  the  subscribers 
of  the  paper." 

The  mention  of  four  hundred  thousand  readers 
does  not  mean  that  we  had  so  many  subscribers. 
We  sent  out  a  vast  number  of  sample  copies,  and 
supposed  most  of  them  were  being  read. 

In  the  August  number  I  said :  "  Our  pencil  and 
tongue  were  very  busy  from  the  time  we  started  on 
our  travels  until  the  home  roof  sheltered  our  head. 
We  visited  St.  Louis,  Kansas  City,  Topeka,  Omaha, 
Des  Moines,  Chicago,  Milwaukee,  Detroit,  Toledo, 
and  Cleveland.  We  called  on  many  subscribers  on 
our  route.  Our  hand  felt  the  western  grip  of  friend- 
ship ;  our  heart  has  rejoiced  under  the  influence  of 
western  hospitality." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  series  of  visits  to  the 
various  states  of  the  Union.  I  took  my  summer 
vacations  in  going  all  over  the  country  for  the  pur- 
pose of  broadening  my  outlook.  For  many  years  I 

185 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

did  this.  I  had  never  travelled  before,  so  I  greatly 
enjoyed  the  novelty  of  the  experience  and  the  feel- 
ing that  I  was  becoming  better  fitted  to  edit  a  paper 
of  a  national  circulation. 

I  hunted  up  subscribers,  visiting  them  and  re- 
ceiving a  hearty  welcome  wherever  I  went.  The 
September  number  told  of  some  of  my  experiences 
in  Ohio  and  Illinois.  One  result  of  my  visit  was  the 
establishment  of  a  western  office  in  Chicago,  at  42 
LaSalle  Street.  In  the  October  number  I  said: 
"  Our  western  friends  should  drop  in  and  see  our 
Chicago  office  when  in  town.  It  is  not  a  big  affair, 
but  large  enough  for  the  present,  and  whoever  calls 
will  receive  a  cordial  and  kindly  welcome." 

I  established  the  Chicago  office  so  as  to  be  in 
closer  touch  with  the  western  farmers.  I  put  the 
office  in  charge  of  a  very  capable  young  woman  who 
within  a  few  years  was  so  popular  that  she  went  off 
and  got  married.  I  had  accomplished  my  purpose  in 
giving  the  Farm  Journal  an  introduction  to  the  West, 
and  after  a  time  withdrew,  ascertaining  by  the  ex- 
periment that  I  could  just  as  well  have  but  one 
office  and  that  in  my  home  city. 

In  the  December  number  of  this  year  I  wrote  a 
few  plain  words  to  my  people.  I  said :  "  The  Farm 
Journal  will  enter  its  seventh  year  in  March  next. 
Beginning  with  one  subscriber,  it  now  has  a  mag- 
nificent circulation,  extending  all  over  the  United 
States.  It  is,  therefore,  not  an  experiment,  but  a 
solidly  established  institution.  Gumption,  grit,  and 
hard  work  are  believed  to  be  the  secrets  of  its 
marvellous  success.  We  have  worked  hard;  by 
prudence  and  the  strictest  economy  we  have  always 
had  enough  cash  to  pay  all  bills  promptly ;  it  has 
taken  the  grittiest  kind  of  grit  to  push  the  machine 
along  upon  a  new  and  unworn  path ;  as  for  the  gump- 

186 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

tion  we  will  keep  quiet  about  that.  The  Farm  Journal 
avoids  all  bitter  newspaper  and  other  controversies, 
and  emphatically  insists  upon  seating  farmers  and 
their  wives  down  at  the  first  table  that  they  may  fill 
themselves  with  the  good  things,  while  grasping 
monopolists  and  lazy  and  useless  peopie  in  general 
wait  for  the  second  table  and  the  crumbs  that  are 
left.  How  does  this  suit  you;  and  what  are  you 
going  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

It  was  in  the  December  number  that  I  placed  in 
the  paper  a  picture  of  a  wee  chap  blowing  bubbles. 


THE  BUBBLE  BOY  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

This  was  a  feature  which  pleased  our  youngest 
readers  for  many  years.  The  text  underneath  was 
suitable  for  such  a  heading,  as,  for  instance :  "  What 
is  it  that  a  cat  has,  but  no  other  animal?  Kittens." 

"  If  a  tree  were  to  break  a  window,  what  would 
the  window  say?  Tre-mend-us." 

"  When  a  boy  falls  into  the  water,  what  is  the 
first  thing  he  does?  He  gets  wet." 

"  What  is  the  difference  between  a  hungry  man 
and  a  glutton?  One  longs  to  eat  and  the  other  eats 
too  long." 

"  How  big  a  club  are  you  going  to  send  us?  If 
you  send  20  names  we  will  not  feel  hurt." 

Now  I  come  to  May,  1883.  I  said  editorially  in 
that  number :  "  Ought  a  farmer  be  taxed  for  that 
proportion  of  his  farm  which  is  covered  by  a  mort- 
gage? Why  should  he?  He  is  not  the  owner."  I 

187 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

have  never  found  out  to  this  day  why  he  should. 

In  the  June  number  I  said :  "  The  100,000  are 
in.  That  job  is  finished.  We  shall  not  boast  of  it, 
we  simply  thank  the  many  friends  who  contributed 
in  the  most  unselfish  manner  to  the  result.  We  shall 
endeavor  to  be  worthy  of  such  a  large  subscription 
list.  Now  that  we  have  100,000  we  shall  try  to  keep 
them.  To  accomplish  this,  we  must  continue  to 
make  the  paper  useful  to  its  readers,  and  we  shall  do 
it  if  we  can.  We  rejoice,  and  we  are  proud  to  know 
that  our  readers  rejoice  with  us." 

In  July  the  editor  was  off  again  on  his  travels. 
This  time  he  visited  the  Shenandoah  valley  and  the 
truck  region  about  Norfolk,  Va. 

In  August  I  said :  "  They  all  say  the  Farm  Journal 
ought  to  have  200,000  subscribers.  Ought  it?  We'll 
see  about  it." 

MY  NEPHEW,  CHARLES  F.  JENKINS,  ENTERS 
THE  BUSINESS 

Sometime  during  the  summer  Howard  M. 
Jenkins,  my  former  partner,  with  his  wife  who  was  my 
sister,  Mary  Anna,  paid  a  visit  to  us  in  our  home  in 
Germantown.  In  the  course  of  the  visit  I  made  in- 
quiry with  reference  to  their  eldest  son,  Charles,  and 
their  plans  concerning  him.  Should  they  enter  him 
for  college  or  have  him  engage  in  business?  The 
boy  was  in  his  eighteenth  year.  I  had  noticed  that 
he  was  an  energetic  youth,  that  he  stepped  around 
lively,  and  that,  when  asked  to  do  anything,  he 
jumped  up  and  did  it.  I  said  that  I  should  like  to 
have  him  to  help  me  on  the  Farm  Journal  and  grow 
up  with  the  paper.  The  decision  was  not  made  at 
this  interview,  but  later  it  was  agreed  that  he  should 
come  to  help  me.  I  needed  the  help  with  one  hun- 
dred thousand  subscribers  already  on  my  hands,  and 

188 


HOWARD  M.  JENKINS 
One  time  partner  and  lifelong  friend 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

a  plan  to  enter  upon  a  campaign  for  one  hundred 
thousand  more.  So  on  September  third,  1883,  the 
lad  came  to  the  Farm  Journal  office  at  125  North 
Ninth  Street,  and  began  work  there  at  six  dollars 
a  week. 

I  knew  the  Jenkins  family  well.  I  had  some 
acquaintance  with  Charles  F.  Jenkins,  the  lad's  great- 
grandfather; I  knew  well  his  grandfather  Algernon 
S.  Jenkins,  and,  of  course,  his  father  Howard,  my 
partner  in  my  early  publishing  enterprises.  These 
men  were  of  high  character,  and  enjoyed  the  esteem 
and  confidence  of  all  who  knew  them.  Honesty  of 
purpose  and  conduct  were  marked  characteristics 
of  each  one  of  them.  If  all  the  tribes  had  been  like 
this  tribe,  locks  would  never  have  been  needed  in 
the  world  nor  ever  thought  of.  As  things  are  now, 
locks  are  necessary  to  prevent  one-half  of  mankind 
from  appropriating  the  property  of  the  other  half. 

In  due  course  Charles's  brother,  Arthur,  now 
treasurer,  and  his  son,  Sidney,  now  secretary  of 
Wilmer  Atkinson  Company,  came  to  join  the  ranks 
of  Farm  Journal  workers.  Later  I  suppose  David, 
Newlin,  and  John,  Charles's  grandsons,  lusty  young- 
sters, will  join  the  staff  of  the  Farm  Journal  and  help 
push  the  enterprise  along  to  greater  success  than  it 
has  yet  achieved. 

In  the  selection  of  a  business  helper  in  1883,  as  in 
the  choice  of  a  domestic  partner  in  1866,  I  felicitate 
myself  on  my  skill.  What  is  the  use  of  one's  doing 
things  in  a  proper  manner  unless  one  gets  credit 
for  it? 

On  the  last  page  of  the  December  number  I  made 
this  announcement :  "  This  paper  has  now  100,000 
subscribers ;  I  want  200,000 ;  Providence  permitting,  I 
am  bound  to  get  them.  You  will  help,  and  I 
know  it." 

189 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Closing  my  talks  to  my  readers  for  the  year  I 
advised  them  thus :  "  Keep  apples  in  a  damp,  cool 
place ;  grapes  in  a  dry,  cool  one,  and  sweet  potatoes 
in  a  dry,  warm  one;  keep  a  shotgun  loaded  for 
sheep-dogs  and  tramps;  keep  your  head  cool,  your 
feet  dry,  your  back  warm,  and  your  conscience  clear, 
your  hands  busy  with  your  own  affairs;  keep  the 
boys  at  home  nights,  by  making  it  so  pleasant  for 
them  that  they'll  be  glad  to  stay;  keep  the  surface 
drain  in  the  wheat  fields  open  and  free  from  leaves 
and  weeds ;  keep  out  of  other  people's  business ;  keep 
your  tongue  from  evil  and  your  lips  from  speaking 
guile ;  keep  up  with  your  work — if  you  can ;  keep  out 
of  law-suits  and  whiskey  shops;  keep  your  insect- 
eating  friends,  the  birds,  in  safety,  by  keeping 
marauding  gunners  off  your  premises;  keep  the 
peace — if  you  have  to  fight  for  it;  keep  fresh,  cool 
water  in  the  watering-trough  ;  keep  your  mouth  shut 
when  you  are  angry  and  when  you  are  asleep ;  keep 
your  own  courage  and  health  by  moderate  eating 
and  careful  living;  keep  to  the  right  on  all  your 
ways ;  keep  your  wife's  temper  sunny  by  a  nice  pile 
of  dry  wood  away  ahead  of  her  needs;  keep  out  of 
debt ;  keep  your  skin  clean ;  keep  off  the  railroad 
track;  and  keep  all  the  commandments." 

In  the  January  number  of  1884  I  report  some  of 
my  travelling  experiences.  I  had  visited  John  A. 
Warder,  a  celebrated  pomologist  of  South  Bend, 
Ohio,  and  called  on  several  small  fruit  growers  in 
New  York  and  New  Jersey.  They  told  me  things  I 
did  not  know  which  I  passed  on  to  my  readers. 

At  the  head  of  the  editorial  page  appeared  the 
claim  that  the  Farm  Journal  had  a  larger  circulation 
than  any  other  agricultural  paper  in  the  East  or  in 
the  West  or  in  the  world,  offering,  in  proof,  "  open 
subscription  books." 

190 


CHARLES  FRANCIS  JENKINS 
Vice-President  of  Wilmer  Atkinson  Company 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

The  Bubble  Boy  tells  of  a  self-acting  sofa  just 
large  enough  for  two.  "If  properly  wound  up  it 
would  begin  to  ring  a  warning  bell  just  before  ten 
o'clock.  At  10.00  it  would  split  apart,  and  while  one- 
half  carried  the  daughter  of  the  house  upstairs,  the 
other  half  would  show  the  young  man  to  the  door." 

"  A  kitchen  joke :  the  flour  of  the  family — that 
which  turns  out  the  best  bread." 

"  It  makes  a  great  difference  whether  glasses  are 
used  over  or  under  the  nose." 

"  When  a  woman  wants  to  be  pretty  she  bangs 
her  hair,  and  when  she  wants  to  be  ugly  she  bangs 
the  door." 

I  had  to  enlarge  the  February  number  to  twenty 
pages,  so  as  to  make  room  for  more  than  the  usual 
advertisements.  My  policy  of  pushing  for  circula- 
tion and  letting  advertisers  find  us  out  was 
being  justified. 

Now  it  was  March,  the  beginning  of  the  eighth 
year  of  the  Farm  Journal.  I  told  more  of  my  travels 
among  the  stock  farmers  in  two  states.  Four  extra 
pages  were  added  so  as  to  accommodate  additional 
advertisements  without  crowding  space  devoted  to 
reading  matter. 

In  looking  over  my  pages  of  a  few  years  back,  I 
find  many  portraits  of  leading  farmers,  stock 
breeders,  gardeners,  and  prominent  agricultural 
writers,  few  of  whom  are  now  living.  Moreover, 
there  are  only  a  few  of  my  contributors  of  that  time 
with  us  now,  nearly  all  having  passed  over.  The  list 
includes  Benjamin  R.  Black,  Colonel  F.  D.  Curtis,  and 
Mary  Sidney. 

Peter  Tumbledown  was  introduced  to  my  readers 
in  the  May  number.  Peter  is  with  us  yet.  In  July  I 
reported  visits  to  a  sheep  ranch  in  Kansas,  and  a  small 
fruit  farm  in  Illinois,  and  another  in  Massachusetts. 

191 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

I  BUY  A  FARM 

Though  brought  up  at  the  plow  handles,  and 
having  performed  in  my  youth  every  kind  of  work 
done  on  a  Pennsylvania  farm  until  I  went  into  the 
publishing  business  in  1862, 1  was  so  deeply  impressed 
with  the  truth  that  an  agricultural  editor  ought,  at 
the  same  time,  to  be  engaged  in  practical  farming  in 
order  that  he  may  be  up-to-date  in  what  he  hands 
out  to  his  subscribers,  that  towards  the  close  of  1884 
I  went  out  to  my  old  neighborhood  in  Upper  Dublin 
and  bought  a  farm  of  over  one  hundred  acres  ad- 
joining my  old  home. 

I  set  about  preparations  for  moving  thereto  as 
soon  as  possible.  I  planned  a  fruit  farm,  and  in  the 
spring  set  out  orchards  of  apples,  pears,  peaches,  and 
cherries  covering  fully  fifty  acres.  On  this  farm  we 
lived,  planned,  and  worked  for  nearly  thirty  years. 
I  built  a  summer  residence  on  one  end  of  the  farm  in 
the  village  of  Three  Tuns,  where  was  located  the 
library  which  played  such  an  important  part  in  my 
early  education.  We  selected  the  name  of  North 
View,  because  from  the  north  porch  we  had  a  fine 
view  to  the  north  over  a  long  stretch  of  beautiful 
rolling  country.  I  was  not  ready  with  my  plans  for 
building  until  the  spring  of  1887.  The  reader  will,  if 
he  follow  my  narrative,  learn  much  of  our  family  life 
at  North  View,  and  of  my  farming  operations  there. 

This  was  a  political  year.  I  gave  some  advice 
thus :  "  Some  farmers  will  vote  for  Elaine,  some 
will  vote  for  Cleveland,  but  all  will  vote  for  the 
Farm  Journal."  In  the  December  number  I  announced 
my  policy  for  the  year  1886.  In  it  I  said :  "  All  our 
promises  for  1885  are  boiled  down  into  these:  '  That 
the  Farm  Journal  will  be  better  than  ever  before, 
worth  more  to  its  readers ;  and  that  all  our  energies 

192 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

and  all  our  expenditures  shall  be  turned  in  this 
direction.  We  offer  no  chromos,  no  prizes,  no  pre- 
miums, no  seed  packages,  no  loans,  no  lottery 
tickets,  no  dictionaries,  no  anything  but  the  paper 
itself.  All  these  things  require  large  expenditures 
of  labor,  thought,  time,  and  money,  which  we  be- 
lieve may  be  far  better  applied  to  the  paper,  both  in 
its  editorial  and  publication  departments,  making  it 
worth  more  and  more  to  its  hosts  of  friends  and 
readers — so  much  that  they  cannot  afford  to  do  with- 
out it.  This  is  what  we  are  going  to  do  for  the  little 
paper  for  the  next  year.'  Now  what  are  you  going 
to  do?  That's  the  important  question  for  you  to 
decide  now.  We  are  going  to  do  our  level  best  to 
make  it  all  it  should  be,  but  cannot  do  this  without 
your  help.  We  know  this,  and  so  do  you.  Will  you 
give  it?  And  will  you  give  it  now?  " 

January,  1886.  This  year  opened  auspiciously 
for  the  Farm  Journal.  New  subscriptions  were  com- 
ing in  freely. 

In  the  March  number  I  announced  the  removal 
of  the  Chicago  office  from  42  LaSalle  Street  to  183 
Dearborn  Street,  in  order  to  be  nearer  the  post  office 
and  the  business  centre  of  the  city.  It  was  during 
the  occupancy  of  the  former  office  that  the  circula- 
tion increased  to  over  one  hundred  thousand. 

In  June,  at  the  invitation  of  a  woman  small-fruit 
grower  of  Vineland,  I  went  with  my  wife  to  visit 
her  and  to  attend  a  fruit  and  flower  fair  in  that 
pleasant  borough.  We  had  an  unusual  experience, 
for  we  found  our  hospitable  friend  wore  bifurcated 
nether  garments,  much  as  men  do.  We  had  not  ex- 
pected this.  Nevertheless,  we  assumed  that  she 
knew  what  she  wanted  to  wear,  and  everything  went 
off  pleasantly.  After  dinner  she  took  us  to  the  fair, 
pointed  out  the  exhibits  and  introduced  us  to  many 
13  193 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

of   the    inhabitants   of   the   place,    most   of   whom 
were  subscribers. 

At  a  later  period,  by  invitation,  I  visited  the  peach 
king  of  America,  J.  H.  Hale,  of  South  Glastonbury, 
Connecticut.  Our  daughter,  Gertrude,  was  with  me 
on  this  trip.  I  was  greatly  edified  during  the  visit  at 
what  I  saw,  and  what  my  host  told  me.  He  drove  me 
through  his  large  orchards  at  quite  a  rapid  pace, 
rather  faster  than  I  liked  when  he  went  down 
steep  hills. 

Hale  was  an  early  friend  of  the  Farm  Journal,  and 
advertised  in  the  paper  almost  from  the  first  issue. 
After  a  time  he  requested  his  advertisement  with- 
drawn, as  financial  difficulties  arose  which  rendered 
it  doubtful  if  he  could  pay  me.  I  sent  him  word  to 
keep  on,  as  money  would  not  be  considered  essen- 
tial. He  did  keep  on,  and  after  a  time  he  was  amply 
able  to  pay  me  on  all  new  insertions.  His  death  a 
few  years  ago  was  a  great  loss  to  the  country,  his 
good  deeds  and  attractive  personality  were  widely 
known  and  appreciated.  Once  he  visited  us  at 
North  View,  and  took  part  in  the  proceedings  of 
our  farmers'  club  which  met  at  our  house.  He  was 
a  very  entertaining  speaker,  and  he  told  this  anec- 
dote very  much  to  the  amusement  of  his  audience. 
He  said :  "  My  little  girl  told  me  that  somebody  said 
I  was  a  great  man,  and  daughter  said :  '  You  aren't, 
are  you,  papa?  ' ' 

In  the  September  number  I  thanked  William 
Parry,  nurseryman,  for  presenting  me  with  a  few 
specimen  trees  of  the  new  Lawson  pear  of  Asiatic 
extraction,  which  was  said  to  ripen  very  early,  earlier 
than  any  other  sort.  I  came  to  regret  that  he  ever 
presented  them  to  me,  for  it  turned  out  that  they 
were  infested  with  San  Jose  scale  of  sorrowful 
memory,  whose  destructive  nature  was  then  un- 

194 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

known.  Near  the  Lawson  trees  stood  my  six-acre 
orchard  of  Lawrence,  Seckel,  and  Anjou  trees  which, 
to  my  utter  detestation,  soon  became  infested.  Fol- 
lowing the  attack  of  the  lice  upon  my  pear  orchard, 
there  was  a  more  serious  one  upon  my  fifty  acres  of 
splendid  young  apple  trees.  I  had  counted  upon  my 
orchard's  becoming  very  profitable  in  a  few  years, 
but  it  cost  more  to  keep  the  pest  in  check  than  the 
fruit  was  worth.  If  I  could  have  given  personal 
oversight  to  the  fight  against  the  insect,  I  probably 
could  have  succeeded  in  protecting  my  trees  from 
harm,  but  I  was  busy  in  the  city  every  day  and  had 
to  rely  on  others  to  do  the  spraying. 

It  was  my  belief  then,  as  it  is  now,  that  the 
English  sparrows  are  the  chief  disseminators  of  the 
San  Jose  scale  louse.  In  the  fall  when  they  congre- 
gate in  flocks  they  fly  from  orchard  to  orchard  and 
from  tree  to  tree,  leaving  hundreds  of  colonies 
wherever  they  alight. 

It  riles  me  to  this  day  to  contemplate  how  I  was 
vanquished  in  my  effort  to  grow  fruit  profitably  on 
my  Upper  Dublin  farm,  and  that  by  insects  no  larger 
than  a  pin-head.  Of  course,  the  pests  that  infested  my 
Lawson  trees  were  not  altogether  to  blame,  for  in  a  few 
years  they  were  found  on  all  neighboring  orchards. 

In  the  December  number  I  urged  my  friends  to 
help  me  along  with  my  two  hundred  thousand.  Up 
to  that  time  and  for  a  year  thereafter,  I  must  have 
had  those  figures  imbedded  in  my  brain,  I  called 
attention  to  them  so  often.  After  I  obtained  them  I 
was  no  better  satisfied,  but  clamored  like  Oliver 
Twist  for  more. 

MY  FIRST  TRIP  ABROAD 

Late  in  November  I  must  have  felt  pretty  well 
used  up  with  my  fall  work,  for  I  bought  passage  on 

195 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

the  5".  6*.  Alaska,  bound  for  Liverpool,  and  sailed,  ac- 
cording to  Emily's  diary,  on  the  twenty-fourth, 
arriving  at  Queenstovvn  in  eight  days.  I  had  a 
rough  passage,  but  did  not  have  to  pay  tribute  to 
Old  Neptune.  I  went  to  London,  scouted  all  over 
the  city  for  a  week  with  a  guide ;  and,  without  taking 
a  run  over  to  Paris  as  I  had  intended,  took  ship  on 
the  same  steamer  for  home,  where  I  arrived  after  a 
stormy  passage,  on  December  twenty-first,  in  time 
to  enjoy  a  happy  Christmas  with  my  family. 

I  bought  a  high  silk  hat  in  London,  such  as  was 
and  still  is  in  vogue  there,  and  boldly  wore  it  right 
in  the  presence  of  the  family.  I  never  wore  it  again. 
The  .form  of  my  head  is  such  that  when  I  put  the  hat 
on  it  leaned  forward  and  to  one  side  a  little,  like  the 
hats  worn  by  the  Irishmen  at  the  Donnybrook  Fair ; 
and,  if  I  straightened  it  up,  it  would  fall  off  to  the 
ground.  I  suppose  it  finally  went  to  the  rummage 
sale.  I  told  about  my  London  trip  in  the  January 
number,  and  said  I  should  have  stayed  longer  per- 
haps, but  felt  I  must  return  to  receive  the  two  hun- 
dred thousand  as  they  came  in.  I  said,  too,  that  I 
had  a  jolly  good  time,  which  I  surely  had. 

I  began  the  publication  of  the  Experimental  Farm 
on  the  last  page  of  the  number  closing  the  first 
decade  in  the  life  of  the  Farm  Journal;  and  this  is 
the  way  I  introduced  it  to  my  large 
family  of  readers :  "  Near  the  head 
of  the  list  of  things  we  expect  to  get 
when  we  start  that  Experimental 
Farm  stands  muscle,  as  you  see  it 
developed  in  this  arm.  It  will  be 

THE  MUSCLE  ,    ,    .  A  ,. 

NEEDED  ON  THAT  useful  in  many  ways.    A  mere  edi- 

" EXPERIMENTAL  ,  ,        , 

FARM"  tor  has  a  small  muscle,  nor  has  he  great 

need  of  a  large  one.  But  a  farmer  has.  To  guide  the 
plow,  handle  the  spade  and  fork,  hold  the  reins  of  a 

196 


FOUNDING  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

skittish  team,  swing  the  axe  and  maul,  pump  the  water, 
shoulder  the  bag  of  wheat  or  corn,  fork  the  hay,  milk  the 
cows,  punch  the  lightning  rod  agent  and  club  the 
tramp  out  the  front  gate,  and  for  many  other  pur- 
poses, a  large,  tough,  hard  muscle  comes  into  good 
service  and  is  almost  indispensable  on  a  farm.  We 
shall  not  stop  at  an  ordinary  development,  but  shall 
cultivate  a  real  stunner — one  that  we  shall  be  proud  of, 
and  a  terror  to  all  evil-disposed  and  envious  persons." 


197 


CHAPTER  XIII 
PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

JANUARY,  1888.  I  now  took  a  forward  step  by 
offering  to  take  two-year  subscriptions  for  thirty 
cents  each.  I  endeavored  to  eliminate  annual  sub- 
scriptions so  as  to  get  rid  of  so  much  clerical  labor 
and  other  expenses  of  renewals.  If  all  subscribed 
for  two  years,  then  the  appeal  for  renewals  need  not 
be  made  so  often.  In  this  I  found  I  took  a  step  that 
proved  to  be  of  great  value  to  me.  In  this  issue  I 
told  my  readers  the  importance  of  renewing  and  get- 
ting up  clubs  for  the  Farm  Journal,  and  this  is  what 
I  said :  "  Do  you  experience  a  loss  of  appetite  at 
this  season  ?  Do  you  have  headache  in  the  morning 
and  backache  at  night?  Are  you  restless  and  uneasy 
after  eating  a  full  meal?  Have  you  darting  pains  in 
any  part  of  the  body  ?  Have  you  a  strange  forebod- 
ing that  something  ought  to  happen  that  does  not, 
or  that  something  will  happen  that  ought  not?  Do 
specks  float  before  your  eyes  when  they  are  closed? 
Have  you  trembling  of  the  limbs?  Do  you  feel  poor, 
as  if  things  financially  were  going  wrong?  Do  you 
imagine  that  the  neighbors  are  circulating  scandals 
about  you  ?  Does  your  wife  droop  as  if  possessed  by 
some  grave  malady?  Do  the  children  have  bad 
colds  and  irritable  tempers?  Do  things  generally  go 
wrong  with  you,  and  are  you  daily  oppressed  with  a 
sorrowful  feeling  that  nothing  can  allay?  If  these 
miseries  and  others  afflict  you,  it  is  probably  because 
you  have  neglected  or  forgotten  to  renew  your  sub- 
scription to  the  Farm  Journal.  Take  this  hint,  there- 
fore, and  be  comforted.  Brush  such  things  all  away 

198 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

by  getting  up  a  club  and  be  happy  all  the  remainder 
of  the  year." 

I  should  now  say  that  those  promises  were 
rather  exuberant. 

In  the  July  number  I  said :  "  At  this  writing  the 
editor  is  strapping  his  knapsack  for  a  fortnight's 
journey  through  Dakota,  Montana,  and  the  Red 
river  country  to  Winnipeg,  in  Manitoba.  He  hopes 
to  meet  some  of  his  subscribers  out  that  way.  He 
will  be  in  search  of  information,  and  hopes  to  have 
a  good  time." 

Recalling  the  trip  now,  I  can  say  that  I  found 
information,  and  I  did  have  a  good  time.  The 
famous  agricultural  editor,  Orange  Judd,  was  one  of 
a  large  party  of  agricultural  editors  who,  with  me, 
made  the  journey  at  the  invitation  and  expense  of 
the  Great  Northern  Railway  Company.  Mr.  Judd 
was  not  then  connected  with  the  American  Agricul- 
turist, but  with  the  Prairie  Farmer.  Norman  J. 
Colman,  then  recently  Secretary  of  Agriculture,  was 
with  us.  I  came  in  contact  with  "  Jim  "  Hill,  the 
great  railroad  king  of  the  northwest,  whom  we  met 
at  Great  Falls. 

Several  of  the  party  were  induced  to  buy  build- 
ing lots  in  that  cataract  city  and  I  was  one  of  the 
number.  I  own  one  of  the  lots  yet.  It  is  of  little 
value  because  it  is  far  up  town.  Those  in  the  busi- 
ness section  no  longer  belong  to  me.  On  its  way 
home  the  party  stopped  at  a  post  village  on  Hill's 
road  and  bought  a  tract  of  land  for  the, purpose  of 
making  a  town  site  of  it  for  speculation.  We  were 
expected,  of  course,  to  boom  it  in  our  papers.  I 
joined  with  the  others  and  paid  down  a  few  hundred 
dollars ;  but  not  long  after  I  reached  home  I  turned 
my  lots  over  to  the  company  without  asking  any 
compensation,  for  I  found  I  could  not  use  the  edi- 

199 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

torial  influence  of  the  Farm  Journal  to  promote  an 
enterprise  in  which  I  had  a  pecuniary  interest.  There 
was  no  money  made  in  that  transaction. 

I  was  unable  to  keep  the  Farm  Journal  from  mix- 
ing in  politics,  as  appears  from  the  following  brief 
editorial :  "  The  Farm  Journal  has  heretofore  re- 
frained from  taking  part  in  politics,  but  the  time  has 
now  come  when  it  can  no  longer  stand  aloof  from 
the  great  contest  that  is  now  pending;  we  there- 
fore call  upon  our  readers  in  thunder  tones  to  rally 
to  the  polls  next  fall  and  elect — the  best  ticket." 

I  closed  the  volume  for  1888  thus :  "  Good  luck  to 
everybody  who  reads  the  Farm  Journal  for  1889." 

January,  1889.  Opening  the  first  issue  for  this 
year  I  find  this  notice  on  the  editorial  page :  "  With 
the  new  year  Charles  F.  Jenkins  becomes  associate 
publisher  of  the  Farm  Journal.  Brought  up  in  the 
office,  bright-minded,  industrious,  willing,  energetic 
and  faithful,  he  has  become  a  valuable  adjunct  to  the 
establishment.  He  is  always  at  his  post  and  is  doing 
his  full  share  in  making  the  paper  the  success  that  it  is. 
We  take  pleasure  in  introducing  him  to  our  readers." 

Our  readers  may  recall  that  he  came  to  me  in 
September,  1883.  During  the  intervening  years  he 
relieved  me  of  much  of  the  responsibility  of  the 
business,  largely  in  the  advertising  department.  The 
editorship  remained  with  me  until  my  retirement  in 
February,  1917,  at  the  end  of  forty  years. 

In  the  August  number  I  said :  "  A  good  many 
people  are  crowding  in  to  get  seats  at  the  first  table, 
seats  that  belong  to  the  farmer  and  his  wife.  This 
won't  do.  Those  who  produce  the  bread  and  meat 
must  not  wait  for  the  crumbs  and  bare  bones.  Clear 
the  way  for  the  farmer  and  his  wife."  This  advice  is 
just  as  good  in  1920  as  it  was  in  1889. 

Also  in  the  August  number  I  said :    "  We  will 
200 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

give  the  Farm  Journal,  two  years,  free,  to  the  youngest 
grandmother  among  our  readers.  Send  along  the 
proof,  not  the  baby." 

February,  1890.  On  the  first  page  of  this  number 
I  said :  "  The  grippe  delayed  us  in  getting  out  our 
paper  for  January.  The  majority  of  our  force  has 
been  down  with  the  disease.  Our  readers  will  ex- 
cuse us  we  know." 

Not  only  our  working  force  became  afflicted  with 
the  malady,  but  members  of  my  family  were  stricken, 
as  I  was  myself.  One  of  the  daughters  was  so  ill  in 
consequence  of  an  attack  that  she  was  ordered  south 
by  her  physician.  She  went  and  I  accompanied  her. 
The  editorial  work  of  the  Farm  Journal,  however, 
was  not  neglected.  The  two  hundred  thousand  were 
not  all  in,  and  I  kept  up  effort  without  abatement. 
All  through  the  year  I  kept  up  the  racket  for  the 
two-year  subscriptions,  and  I  was  winning  out  on 
that  track. 

During  this  year,  Hale,  the  peach  king,  furnished 
us  a  series  of  papers  on  growing  peaches. 

In  the  December  number  I  said :  "  It  is  the  mis- 
sion of  the  Farm  Journal  to  make  people  think. 
Thinkers  are  in  demand."  It  was  in  this  number 
that  a  page  advertisement  was  taken  by  the  Curtis 
Publishing  Company  for  the  Ladies'  Home  Journal. 
In  the  same  number  I  made  this  announcement  for 
the  coming  year :  "  The  old  year  goes  out ;  1891  will 
soon  step  in.  We  will  welcome  the  coming  as  we 
speed  the  parting  guest.  We  wish  all  our  readers 
a  larger  measure  of  prosperity  for  the  coming  year 
than  they  have  experienced  during  the  past  one ; 
comfort  in  their  environment;  success  in  their 
undertakings,  and  the  peace  that  cometh  from  in- 
dustry, high  aims,  and  righteous  living.  The  Farm 
Journal  will  be  a  better  paper  next  year  than  it  has 

2OI 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

ever  been  if  we  can  make  it  so — more  suggestive, 
more  entertaining,  and  more  helpful.  Our  ambition 
is  to  print  a  clean,  wholesome,  and  useful  paper  each 
issue,  which  will  be  read  by  1,000,000  people,  and 
thus  do  something  for  the  betterment  of  mankind. 
We  will  never  grow  weary  of  doing  our  best  as  long 
as  our  friends  stand  by  us." 

January,  1891.  On  the  first  page  appeared  this 
modest  announcement:  "We  printed  over  600,000 
copies  of  the  Farm  Journal  last  month,  using  over 
24,000  pounds  of  paper.  The  sheets  if  placed  end  to 
end  would  stretch  over  336  miles,  and  if  made  in  one 
sheet  would  nearly  cover  the  whole  state  of  Penn- 
sylvania, mountains  and  all.  Our  readers  may  well 
imagine  our  office  is  a  busy  place.  Nearly  100 
printers,  folders,  editors,  and  clerks  are  employed 
at  our  busiest  time."  That  was  going  some.  It 
meant  business.  On  the  editorial  page  I  first  men- 
tioned one  million  subscribers  in  this  way  as  our 
goal:  "  It  is  a  big  job  to  get  1,000,000  subscribers 
for  the  Farm  Journal,  but  it  can  be  done;  must  be 
done.  It  was  a  big  job  to  get  200,000  friendly  patrons 
scattered  all  over  this  broad  country.  This  we  have 
accomplished.  This  is  addressed  to  every  reader  of 
the  paper,  whether  paid  ahead  or  those  whose  time 
has  expired,  fe«-  all  are  invited  to  help  the  Farm  Journal 
at  this  time.  All  lift  now,  and  let  somebody  else  do 
the  grunting.  Now !  " 

In  the  November  number  I  declared  that  I  was 
in  earnest  about  obtaining  one  million  subscribers. 
I  said :  "  Everybody  says  I  ought  to  have  them.  I 
have  set  to  work  to  get  them,  and  they  are  now  com- 
ing in.  The  signs  all  point  to  success  in  my  great 
endeavor.  If  only  you  will  stick  to  it  yourself,  and 
talk  to  your  neighbors  about  it." 

It  seems  by  this  time  that  I  was  not  satisfied 
202 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

with  a  paltry  two  hundred  thousand,  but  must  have 
a  million.  It  was  many  days,  and  several  years,  in 
fact,  before  I  obtained  them,  but  I  knew  I  could  not 
fail,  and  I  did  not. 

In  the  December  number  I  gave  some  good 
advice  to  young  men  as  follows :  "  Young  man,  be- 
ware of  starting  out  in  the  world  with  too  much 
capital.  Better  go  slow  in  the  start.  Better  earn 
the  capital  you  begin  with.  If  your  father  or  rich 
uncle  sets  you  up,  or  you  marry  a  rich  woman  and 
are  boosted  by  her,  look  out  for  a  tumble  later  on. 
Self-reliance,  young  man,  and  the  grit  to  set  your- 
self up  are  far  better  than  help  from  anybody.  Dare, 
work,  stick ! " 

January,  1893.  This  was  the  panic  year.  There 
were  many  business  failures,  and  general  trade  was 
at  a  low  ebb.  I  remember  visiting  Chicago  at  that 
time  and  saw  long  lines  of  men  and  women  before 
banks  trying  to  get  in  to  draw  out  their  money.  But 
in  the  whole  history  of  the  Farm  Journal  I  never 
paid  the  slightest  attention  to  the  general  business 
of  the  country.  I  kept  pegging  away  just  the  same 
in  good  times  as  in  times  of  depression. 

In  February  of  this  year  I  published  what  pur- 
ported to  be  a  telephone  message  as  follows : 

"Hello!    Is  that  Atkinson?" 

"  Just  so." 

"  I  see  a  good  many  things  advertised  in  the 
Farm  Journal  that  I  want.  Will  it  be  safe  to  send 
cash  for  them  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly." 

"  Do  you  guarantee  square  dealing  with  every 
advertiser  in  your  paper?  " 

"  Of  course,  I  do." 

"  Will  you  refund  the  money  in  any  case  where  I 
am  treated  dishonestly?" 

203 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

"  I  undertake  to  do  that  and  will  do  it  as  long  as 
my  bank  account  holds  out.  I  only  accept  adver- 
tisements from  honorable  men — don't  be  afraid." 

"  That's  the  way  to  talk." 

"  One  thing,  be  sure  to  say  when  you  write  to  an 
advertiser :  '  I  saw  your  advertisement  in  the  Farm 
Journal.'  My  subscribers  are  favored  with  the  cream 
of  everything,  as  they  ought  to  be." 

"  All  right.    Good-bye." 

"  Call  again.     Good-bye." 

In  the  May  number  I  made  an  offer  to  Farm 
Journal  boys  as  follows.  I  said :  "  Young  man,  do 
you  smoke?  Better  quit  now  before  the  habit  gets 
fixed.  If  you  will  quit  for  a  year  I  will  send  you 
the  Farm  Journal  the  next  year  free.  Come  now, 
begin ;  send  me  the  proof,  and  also  say  how  much 
money  you  will  have  saved  by  the  operation." 

I  said  in  the  December  number:  "The  one  fea- 
ture that  marks  this  paper  in  contrast  to  all  others 
is  that  it  knows  what  to  leave  out.  The  art  of  leav- 
ing out  we  will  not  forget  in  the  coming  year." 

In  the  July  number  I  made  this  announcement: 
"  The  Farm  Journal  hereafter  will  be  conducted  by 
Wilmer  Atkinson  Company,  a  chartered  corporation 
of  the  state  of  Pennsylvania.  Of  this  company 
Wilmer  Atkinson  is  President  and  Charles  F. 
Jenkins,  Secretary  and  Treasurer.  All  of  the  stock 
of  the  corporation  belongs  to  them.  The  paper  will 
be  conducted  in  the  same  spirit,  on  the  same  lines, 
and  by  the  same  persons  as  heretofore.  There  will 
be  no  change  in  the  business  or  editorial  methods, 
except  that  we  are  going  to  do  better."  This  change 
took  place  just  ten  years  after  Charles  came,  as  a  lad 
of  eighteen,  to  help  me  on  the  Farm  Journal. 

In  the  November  number  I  remarked :  "  The  Farm 
Journal  is  pie;  the  crust  is  short  and  crisp;  the  filling 

204 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

is  your  favorite  kind ;  dinner  is  a  failure  without  it, 
and  life  is  woe.  Go  tell  the  neighbors." 

January,  1894.  At  this  time  I  made  it  a  rule  for 
all  subscriptions  to  expire  with  December,  the 
reason  being  that  that  was  the  best  season  of  the 
year  to  obtain  renewals.  The  wisdom  of  this  rule 
was  fully  justified  in  results.  I  know  of  no  other 
paper  that  did  this. 

In  the  March  number  I  said :  "  What  this  coun- 
try needs  is  an  epidemic  of  lockjaw  in  Congress," 
and  "  It  is  a  poor  mule  that  won't  work  both  ways." 
I  found  these  playful  remarks  were  just  what 
folks  liked. 

In  the  April  number  I  said :  "  Anybody  who 
thinks  Wilmer  Atkinson  writes  all  the  good  things 
in  the  Farm  Journal  is  very  much  mistaken;  he  only 
does  his  share." 

In  the  May  number  I  said :  "  Our  appetite  is 
never  better  than  after  grubbing  at  white  oak  stumps ; 
that  is  the  only  way  we  can  digest  salt  pork ;  "  also : 
"  What  is  defeat  ?  Nothing  but  education  ;  and  noth- 
ing but  the  first  step  to  something  better."  I  said 
further:  "  What  is  the  use  of  getting  drunk,  anyhow?  " 

"  An  eel  held  by  the  tail  is  not  yet  caught." 

"  The  Farm  Journal  stopped  is  a  hole  in  the  pocket." 

In  the  August  number  I  said :  "  Our  heartfelt 
sympathy  goes  out  to  everyone  of  Our  Folks  who  is 
pressed  by  hard  times  and  is  not  getting  ahead.  May 
a  brighter  day  soon  dawn  for  him." 

In  the  November  number  I  said : 

"  Man,  when  the  woman  talks  you  keep  still !  " 

"  Washington  was  a  farmer  and  made  a  good 
president,  didn't  he?" 

"  The  brave  soul  wins  in  the  end." 

April,  1895.  I  said:  "  It  required  45  tons  of  paper 
for  last  month's  Farm  Journal.  Extended  out  length- 

205 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

wise  the  pages  would  make  a  paper  path  from  Phila- 
delphia to  Mankato,  Minnesota,  a  distance  of  iioo 
miles ;  and  we  intend  to  go  clear  across  the  continent 
next  winter."  In  the  same  number  I  said :  "  Nobody 
ever  made  a  farm  pay  by  stopping  the  Farm  Journal." 

In  the  May  number,  1895,  I  said:  "  We  have  been 
so  cramped  for  room  at  125  North  Ninth  Street  that 
we  have  to  move."  In  further  reference  to  this  I 
said :  "  The  building,  which  we  now  occupy,  and 
which  has  been  our  business  home  for  more  than  a 
dozen  years,  is  not  now  ample  enough  for  the  con- 
venient and  economical  conduct  of  a  large  and  con- 
stantly developing  business,  hence  we  have  made 
preliminary  arrangements  for  removal  to  larger 
quarters,  having  purchased  a  building  and  lot  on 
Race  Street  above  Tenth,  not  far  from  the  business 
centre  and  but  a  few  blocks  from  the  post  office. 
On  the  lot  we  shall  build  a  plain,  substantial,  not 
gorgeous,  building  suitable  for  its  purpose,  ample  in 
size,  with  facilities  adequate  for  present  needs  and 
for  future  growth.  A  million  subscribers  are  com- 
ing, and  we  must  prepare  to  receive  and  provide 
for  them." 

In  the  August  number  I  said :  "  Well,  we  have 
moved.  Farewell,  old  125 ;  many  a  happy  day  we 
spent  with  you,  and  we  are  sorry  for  the  leaving;  but 
best  friends  must  part,  and  so  good-bye. 

"The  new  place  is  at  1024  Race  Street;  here  we 
have  room  for  150  clerks  to  work  without  elbov/s 
touching,  and  are  now  ready  for  the  million  sub- 
scribers, and  we  are  pounding  to  get  them.  Now  we 
are  in  our  new  home  we  shall  be  glad  to  have  Our 
Folks,  when  in  town,  call  and  see  how  comfortably 
we  are  fixed." 

In  the  December  number  I  said :  "  This  is  your 
paper;  it  is  your  wife's  paper;  it  is  the  children's 

206 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

paper ;  it  is  everybody's  paper ;  help  us  get  our  mil- 
lion subscribers ;  help  pay  for  our  new  home ;  now 
be  kind,  good,  obliging  and  happy." 

Soon  after  we  moved  to  Race  Street  I  observed 
that  our  employees  were  working  too  many  hours 
each  day  for  their  physical  welfare.  After  the  lapse 
of  eight  hours,  they  were  weary  enough  to  quit;  I 
thought  that  they  ought  to  quit  then.  The  usual 
number  of  hours  at  that  period  was  nine.  Upon  mak- 
ing this  discovery,  we  cut  the  last  hour  off  and  estab- 
lished eight  hours  as  a  day's  work  in  our  office. 
This  reform  was  made  nearly  twenty  years  ahead  of 
the  procession  for  shorter  hours.  I  preached  fair 
play  in  the  Farm  Journal  and  so  led  the  way  in  the 
practice  of  it. 

January,  1896.  This  is  the  closing  year  of  our 
second  decade.  I  had  been  pounding  away  for  a 
larger  circulation  for  twenty  years.  I  told  my 
readers  that  "  the  Farm  Journal  goes  like  an  epidemic, 
sweeping  the  country  over.  All  recover  who  take 
it  and  are  better  ever  after."  We  then  had  in  the 
busy  months  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  employees. 
I  said :  "  Tens  of  thousands  of  new  subscribers  are 
pouring  in  from  every  state  and  Our  Folks  every- 
where are  working  like  beavers  for  our  million  sub- 
scribers. Thank  you,  beloved  friends,  one  and  all. 
Keep  right  on  until  we  get  our  round  million  sub- 
scribers. Just  as  like  as  not,  if  you  let  the  Farm 
Journal  stop  now,  all  next  year  everything  will  go 
wrong;  the  curculio  will  puncture  your  plums,  the 
blight  will  kill  your  pear  trees,  the  sow  will  kill  her 
pigs,  the  horses  will  become  sweenied,  the  chickens 
eat  their  heads  off,  the  bread  will  be  sour,  the  butter 
rancid,  your  husband  cross,  your  wife  unhappy,  the 
hired  man  lazy,  the  children  troublesome,  and  the 

207 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

cow  will  kick  the  bucket  over.    Don't  for  the  world 
let  the  Farm  Journal  stop." 

By  the  close  of  the  twenty-fifth  year  of  the  pub- 
lication of  the  Farm  Journal,  the  circulation  had 
reached  a  round  half  million.  This  shows  an  aver- 
age annual  increase  of  twenty  thousand  from  the 
start,  a  result  that  was  encouraging  and  that  assured 
us  of  a  successful  future.  With  our  past  success  I 
felt  sure  that  we  could  do  better  in  the  years  that 
were  before  us.  In  looking  up  the  record,  I  find 
that  during  the  next  ten  years  we  made  a  gain  at  the 
rate  of  twenty-five  thousand  a  year.  It  took  us  five 
years  more  to  top  out  the  million,  so  the  gain  for 
the  last  five  years  was  fifty  thousand  a  year.  It  is 
not  so  difficult  to  obtain  fifty  thousand  new  sub- 
scribers in  a  year ;  the  hardest  task  is  to  hold  on  at 
the  same  time  to  what  you  already  have. 

POSTAL  FIGHT 

I  may  here  appropriately  make  reference  to  the 
part  I  took  at  this  period  in  the  great  contest  that 
publishers  made  against  the  ill-advised  attempt  by 
the  Post  Office  Department  to  increase  the  rate  of 
postage  on  second-class  matter.  Congress  in  March, 
1879,  two  years  after  the  Farm  Journal  was  started, 
adopted  the  pound  rates  on  newspapers  and  periodi- 
cals, charging  one  cent  a  pound  in  bulk.  Under  this 
beneficent  law,  the  growth  and  influence  of  the 
public  press  made  wonderful  strides.  Before  that 
the  postage  was  much  higher  and  the  subscriber  was 
required  to  pay  it,  which  was  added  to  the  subscrip- 
tion price  by  the  publisher;  under  the  operation  of 
the  new  rate,  the  publisher  paid  the  postage. 

The  great  fight  was  to  prevent  an  increase  of  the 
rate  to  four  cents  a  pound  or  even  more,  as  proposed 
by  the  Post  Office  Department.  The  contest  lasted 

208 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

more  than  a  decade,  almost  up  to  the  opening  of  the 
World  War.  I  went  into  the  fight  with  all  my  usual 
earnestness  and  gave  the  matter  a  great  deal  of  study. 

Commission  after  commission  was  appointed  by 
Congress  to  investigate  the  cost  of  mailing  second- 
class  matter  and  each  one  of  them  found  me  on  hand 
with  a  paper  brimful  of  facts  and  arguments  show- 
ing why  there  should  be  no  increase  of  rates.  It  is  a 
long  story,  so  long  in  fact,  that  if  I  wrote  it  all  out 
it  would  fill  another  volume  as  large  as  this.  I  will 
therefore  only  mention  that  in  the  course  of  the  con- 
test our  company  spent  many  thousands  of  dollars 
in  its  propaganda,  and  that  I  gave  much  of  my  time 
and  energy  to  writing  pamphlets  and  booklets,  com- 
prising altogether  over  four  hundred  pages,  on  the 
subject  in  order  to  arouse  publishers  and  inform 
Congress  and  the  public  of  the  error  of  the  Post 
Office  Department  in  trying  to  increase  the  postage 
rates  on  the  people's  reading  matter. 

Among  the  documents  I  wrote  was  a  series  of 
five  booklets,  over  the  signature  of  "Job  Jobson," 
which  our  company  circulated  everywhere  among 
publishers  throughout  the  United  States,  among 
members  of  Congress,  and  other  persons  of  influ- 
ence. I  wound  up  my  series  of  bound  pamphlets 
with  one  on  the  "  Freedom  of  the  Press,"  containing 
fifty-six  pages,  which  is,  as  I  believe,  the  only  one 
that  has  ever  been  published  in  the  United  States, 
presenting  quotations  from  famous  defenders  of  this 
palladium  of  our  liberties,  from  John  Milton  down 
to  the  time  of  my  writing.  This  book  now  is  out  of 
print,  but  many  thousand  copies  were  published  and 
circulated  at  our  expense. 

Besides  these  pamphlets  I  wrote  one  entitled: 
"  Does  the  Government  Lose  on  Second-class  Mat- 
ter?" The  question  was  answered  in  the  negative 
14  209 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

from  Government  documents.  I  wrote  another: 
"  Guessing  and  Figuring  Having  Failed,  Try  a  Few 
Ounces  of  Common  Sense,"  consisting  of  some 
wholesome  advice  to  the  officials  of  the  Post  Office 
Department;  another:  "Twenty-five  Years  Behind 
the  Times  and  Facing  Backward ;  "  and  another :  "  A 
Bogey  Unveiled."  Just  what  influence  my  argu- 
ments had  in  furnishing  Congress  and  the  public 
with  indisputable  truth  on  the  subject,  I  shall  not 
undertake  to  say,  but  I  was  gratified  in  knowing  that 
there  was  no  increase  in  the  postage  rate  for  many 
years.  In  the  contest  there  were  many  able  pub- 
lishers who  joined  in  the  fight,  including  my  nephew, 
Charles  F.  Jenkins,  Messrs.  James  M.  Pierce  and 
John  J.  Hamilton,  of  the  Iowa  Homestead,  my  friend 
Herbert  Myrick  of  Farm  and  Home  and  American 
Agriculturist,  M.  W.  Lawrence  of  the  Ohio  Farmer, 
Hollenbach,  representing  the  fraternal  publications,  and 
Rev.  A.  J.  Rowland,  representing  the  religious  press, 
and  Samuel  J.  Gompers,  speaking  for  the  labor  press 
of  the  country.  At  the  various  commissions,  one 
held  in  Washington  and  two  in  New  York,  I  was 
selected,  with  others,  to  represent  the  National  Agri- 
cultural Press  League  and  did  my  part  as  well  as  I 
could.  At  a  meeting  of  this  League,  held  at  the  Grand 
Pacific  Hotel,  in  Chicago,  on  December  fifth,  1906,  the 
following  resolution  was  adopted : 

Whereas,  Wilmer  Atkinson  has  rendered  the 
press  of  the  country  invaluable  service  in  compiling 
and  distributing  data  concerning  the  unreasonable 
and  burdensome  restrictions  of  the  Third  Assistant 
Postmaster  General  in  the  administration  of  the 
regulations  pertaining  to  second-class  matter,  and 
"  Whereas,  Mr.  Atkinson  has  ably  and  continu- 
ously defended  the  integrity  of  publishers  in  the 

210 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

faithful  observance  of  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the 
acts  of  Congress  relating  to  second-class  matter; 
therefore,  be  it 

"  Resolved,  That  the  thanks  of  the  National  Agri- 
cultural Press  League  are  due  and  are  hereby  ten- 
dered to  Mr.  Atkinson  for  his  able,  courageous  and 
effective  championship  of  the  rights  and  dignity  of 
the  American  press  in  general,  and  his  valuable  ser- 
vice to  the  agricultural  press  in  particular,  in  con- 
nection with  the  pending  congressional  inquiry  into 
postal  questions  affecting  the  publishing  interests  of 
the  United  States." 

I  am  perfectly  well  aware  that  I  was  not  the  only 
one  deserving  praise,  for  there  were  scores  of  pub- 
lishers all  over  the  United  States  who  took  a  promi- 
nent and  effective  part  in  the  defense  of  our 
just  cause. 

In  this  matter,  as  in  so  many  others,  the  great 
World  War  into  which  we  were  drawn  and  the  con- 
sequent necessity  of  enormously  increasing  Govern- 
ment taxes,  unfortunately  led  to  the  enactment  of 
the  zone  system  of  postage  with  a  greatly  increased 
rate,  which  law  is  altogether  pernicious  and  un- 
patriotic. This  system  of  postage,  which  now  dis- 
astrously affects  publishers,  will  surely  work  ulti- 
mate untold  injury  to  the  people  of  the  United 
States.  The  zone  system  in  effect  divides  the  coun- 
try into  sections.  The  postage  rate  on  newspapers 
and  periodicals  is  two,  three,  four,  five  times  greater 
in  some  zones  than  in  others,  and  this  must  inevit- 
ably work  in  the  future  against  the  homogeneity  of 
our  people  and  the  solidarity  of  our  nation,  which 
are  so  essential  to  our  future  welfare.  I  trust  that 
publishers  will  never  rest  satisfied  to  have  this  law 
continued  on  the  statute  books,  but  will  take  steps 

211 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

to  bring  the  matter  before  Congress  in  such  a  way 
that  it  will  be  repealed. 

The  people  of  every  particular  section  of  the  United 
States  should  by  all  means  have  access  to  the  same 
literature  as  every  other  section.  Otherwise  we  will 
grow  apart  and  cease  to  understand,  appreciate,  and 
regard  each  other  as  we  should.  Had  the  two  sec- 
tions, the  North  and  the  South,  before  the  Civil 
War,  been  accustomed  to  reading  the  same  news- 
papers and  magazines,  they  probably  never  would 
have  gone  to  war  against  each  other. 

Shortly  after  the  commission  had  concluded  its 
labors  a  New  York  advertising  journal,  referring  to 
my  address  against  the  unreasonable  and  onerous 
demands  of  the  Post  Office  Department,  said: 

"  Every  publisher  in  this  land  should  thank 
Wilmer  Atkinson  for  what,  to  our  mind,  is  the  most 
able  and  convincing  argument  ever  put  forth  on  the 
subject  of  justice  being  done  to  the  publisher  by  the 
post  office  authorities." 

I  will  close  my  reference  to  our  post  office  fight 
with  the  following  extract  from  my  pamphlet 
"Job  Jobson": 

"  '  The  Lord  must  have  loved  the  common  people,' 
said  Abraham  Lincoln,  '  for  he  made  so  many  of 
them.'  The  cheap  periodical  is  for  the  Lord's  people. 
The  rich  can  buy  books  and  high-priced  papers  and 
magazines,  and  can  send  their  children  to  college; 
the  low  rate  of  postage  does  not  so  much  concern 
them;  it  is  the  ignorant  and  lowly  that  need  to  be 
educated  and  lifted  up  by  means  of  the  public  press. 
Remember  the  mechanic,  the  hired  man  on  the 
farm,  the  toiler  in  mill  and  mine,  the  stray  from 
foreign  shore,  all  who  are  near  the  bottom  rung  of 
the  ladder  and  are  struggling  for  a  grip  higher  up, 

212 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 

all  the  under  dogs  in  the  fight,  all  who  seek  knowl- 
edge with  a  slim  purse,  and  forbear  saying  a  word 
or  performing  an  act  that  will  deprive  them  of  oppor- 
tunity to  obtain  good,  cheap  literature  for  their  life's 
uplifting.  Just  as  the  public  school  is  almost  free, 
so  also  should  be  the  newspapers  to  the  poor.  Cash 
balance  in  the  treasury,  what  is  that  compared  with 
the  education  and  uplifting  of  the  Lord's  people?" 


213 


CHAPTER  XIV 
PETER  TUMBLEDOWN 

"  Then  winter  all  its  weapons  bared,  and  found 
old  Peter  unprepared :  The  stable  doors  were  swing- 
ing loose,  the  hinges  creaking  like  the  deuce,  and  all 
the  critters  stalled  inside  had  frost  bites  on  the  hoof 
and  hide ;  the  cows  had  chilblains  on  their  feet  and 
wished  they  had  the  prickly  heat." 

— Walt  Mason. 

DURING  the  early  years  of  the  Farm  Journal,  when 
it  was  my  custom  to  make  annual  trips  through  the 
various  states  of  the  Union  for  recreation  and  in 
search  of  information,  I  was  surprised  and  vexed  at 
seeing  from  the  car  windows  so  many  farmsteads 
where  gates  were  off  the  hinges,  broken  wagons 
lying  around,  manure  piles  in  plain  sight,  where 
ploughs  had  been  left  standing  in  the  furrows,  where 
buildings  were  leaning  or  tumbling  down,  where  it 
seemed  as  though  nobody  lived  and  nobody  cared 
for  anything.  Such  places  were  not  confined  to  any 
particular  state,  though  they  were  more  numerous  in 
some  states  than  in  others. 

I  pondered  the  question  whether  something  could 
not  be  done  to  bring  about  a  change  for  the  better  in 
such  conditions,  for  surely  it  was  not  necessary  for 
any  American  farmer  to  let  himself  run  to  seed  that 
way.  Even  if  poor,  he  might  keep  things  in  order, 
and  not  so  fret  the  landscape  with  examples  of 
neglect  and  disorder.  It  was  fair  to  conclude  that 
some  of  the  places  of  that  description  were  the 
homes  of  men  who  had  yielded  to  their  appetite  for 
strong  drink,  but  not  necessarily  so  in  all  cases.  It 

214 


PETER  TUMBLEDOWN 

was  in  most  instances  simply  carelessness  and  indif- 
ference on  the  part  of  the  occupant,  who  most  likely 
was  a  renter,  and  naturally  lacked  ambition  to  make 
a  fair  show  of  premises  that  belonged  to  some 
one  else. 

It  was  while  cogitating  upon  this  state  of  affairs 
that  I  conceived  the  idea  of  Peter  Tumbledown, 
and  of  giving  his  failings  and  his  idiosyncrasies  a 
show  down  in  the  Farm  Journal  each  month.  Thus 
this  now  famous  Peter  Tumbledown's  place  was  put 
on  the  map  of  the  United  States,  I  presume  to  stay 
there  as  long  as  there  shall  be  need.  I  question 
whether  there  is  a  single  locality  anywhere  in  the 
agricultural  sections  of  the  country  where  Peter 
Tumbledown  does  not  abide,  but  I  hope  there  are  not 
quite  so  many  of  him,  as  there  once  were. 

I  fancy  the  reader  of  this  book  will  be  willing  to 
know  more  about  our  old  friend  Peter,  and  the  way 
in  which  the  Farm  Journal  undertook  a  thirty-year 
campaign  to  rectify  his  unfortunate  habits  by  raillery 
— perhaps  ridicule  is  a  better  word — and  by  stimu- 
lating his  neighbors  to  aid  the  laudable  endeavor. 
So  I  quote : 

Peter  Tumbledown   lounged   in   the   Tumbledown 

house 

By  the  side  of  his  Tumbledown  stove, 
While  the  cheap  hired  man  milked  the  Tumbledown 

cows 

That  were  kept  in  a  Tumbledown  grove. 
For  the  Tumbledown  boys,  who  were  willing  young 

men, 

Had  fled  from  the  place  in  alarm, 
When  the  thought  came  to  them  that  they  might 

have  to  spend 

All  their  lives  on  a  Tumbledown  farm. 
215 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Where  did  Peter  Tumbledown  get  so  many  old 
broken-down  wagons,  implements  and  things,  as  we 
see  about  his  place,  anyhow?  Why  must  he  keep 
three  yellow  dogs;  why  should  he  always  tramp 
through  the  mud  on  the  way  to  the  barn;  why  is 
his  ax  so  dull  that  it  will  not  cut  worth  a  cent,  and 
why  can't  he  pass  a  tavern  without  stopping  in? 
Bad  whiskey  is  not  necessary  for  good  health,  nor 
clean  clothes,  nor  good  farming,  nor  money  in  bank. 

By  the  looks  of  Peter  Tumbledown's  farming 
the  past  year,  his  lamp  was  not  kept  burning  but 
must  have  gone  clean  out.  His  cows  and  heifers 
have  to  drink  ice  water  every  day,  and  stand  about 
the  barnyard  with  their  backs  hunched  up,  a-shiv- 
ering.  And  you  can  hear  his  pigs  squeal  a  mile. 

Peter  Tumbledown  in  getting  ready  to  move  to  a 
new  place  last  month  could  not  find  his  plow ;  went 
to  the  field  to  look  for  it,  but  the  snow-drifts  hid  it 
from  sight.  He  had  forgotten  which  end  of  the 
furrow  he  left  it  in  last  fall,  so  it  took  several  hours 
to  find  it  and  dig  it  out.  It  will  not  scour  very  well 
the  first  day  he  uses  it,  but  Peter  is  used  to  that. 

Old  Peter  Tumbledown  spends  enough  on  to- 
bacco and  whiskey  in  one  year  to  buy  his  wife  a  silk 
dress  and  to  send  both  of  his  boys  to  boarding- 
school.  And  would  you  believe  it,  he  plays  cards  at 
the  tavern  several  hours  every  week.  He  does  not 
own  a  horse  whose  ribs  are  not  visible  a  hundred 
yards  away. 

Old  Peter  Tumbledown  wants  his  fellow  citizens 
to  elect  him  to  the  office  of  road  supervisor.  He 
rides  around  a  good  deal,  and  so  might  easily  in- 
spect the  roads,  but  this  is  the  only  thing  that  can 

216 


PETER  TUMBLEDOWN 

recommend  him.  No  one  would  suppose  that  he 
would  keep  the  sign-boards  fixed  up,  the  loose  stones 
picked  off,  nor  the  culverts  in  repair,  would  you? 

Peter  Tumbledown  gave  each  of  his  boys  a  runt 
pig,  and  when  it  grew  up  sold  it  and  put  the  money 
in  his  own  pocket,  and  now  the  boys  are  getting 
ready  to  leave  the  farm. 

When  Peter  Tumbledown  wants  to  use  a  ladder 
he  goes  to  a  neighbor  to  borrow  one,  and  then  for- 
gets to  return  it  to  the  owner.  Peter  starts  the  morn- 
ing grumbling,  at  his  wife,  next  the  children,  ending 
up  with  the  hired  boy,  who  catches  it  all  day.  You 
would  laugh  now  to  see  him  as  he  hunts  up  the  plow 
and  drags  it  out  of  the  fence  corner. 

Just  why  old  Peter  Tumbledown's  horses  look  so 
bony  it  is  hard  to  say.  Their  ribs  show,  their  hip- 
bones protrude,  and  they  all  have  such  sharp  back- 
bones. No  one  likes  to  ride  any  of  them  to  the  shop 
to  be  shod  without  a  saddle.  The  cows  are  that 
way,  too. 

Dear  reader,  you've  heard  of  the  man,  no  doubt, 
Who  lives  here  and  there,  and  all  round  about; 
On  the  mountains  above,  the  valleys  below, 
You  are  sure  to  meet  him  wherever  you  go. 

His  dwelling-house  stands  by  the  side  of  the  way, 
The  passer  will  notice  its  rapid  decay ; 
The  shingles  that  covered  the  roof  one  day 
Have  rotted  and  loosened  and  blown  far  away. 

Where  lights  have  been  broken  in  the  windows  about, 
Rags  and  old  hats  are  now  sticking  out; 
The  barn  and  outbuildings  are  rickety,  too, 
The  boards  and  the  doors  are  hanging  askew. 

217 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

The  pigs  and  the  poultry  around  the  front  door, 
Rooting  and  scratching  forevermore ; 
Fences  are  down  around  field  and  yard, 
And  dogs  are  kept  standing  on  picket-guard. 

If  a  cow  or  a  calf  should  perchance  starve  to  death, 
Or  lie  down  and  die  for  the  want  of  breath, 
He  makes  it  a  point  to  sell  the  skin 
And  fill  the  old  jug  with  whiskey  again. 

Last  season,  one  clear  and  sunshiny  day, 
He  drove  in  the  barn  with  the  first  load  of  hay ; 
The  corn-sheller  lay  on  the  floor  of  the  mow, 
But  having  no  use  for  the  thing  just  now, 

And  no  disposition  to  move  it  away, 
Covered  it  up  with  the  new-mown  hay ; 
To-day  he  goes  round  to  his  neighbors  to  borrow 
A  sheller  to  shell  out  some  corn  to-morrow. 

This  singular  man,  as  I  have  been  told, 
Is  not  very  young,  not  exceedingly  old. 
Sleeps  soundly  nights,  a  right  heavy  eater, 
Is  generally  known  as  Tumbledown  Peter. 

Some  writers  have  made  a  few  characters  im- 
mortal, but  you  have  done  your  best  to  have  old 
Peter  Tumbledown  die  a  natural  death,  if  he  is  not 
too  tired.  When  I  read  what  old  Peter  has  not  done, 
I  am  reminded  of  one  of  his  kind  who  was  so  fond  of 
work  that  he  would  lie  down  beside  it  and  go  to  sleep. 

"  I  knew  there  wasn't  any  real  use  in  slicking  up 
the  yard  and  fields,"  chuckled  Peter  Tumbledown 
when  he  looked  out  of  the  window  one  morning  and 
saw  a  snow  mantle  over  everything.  "  Guess  my 
farm  looks  as  good  as  anybody's,  now!  And  it's 

218 


PETER  TUMBLEDOWN 

lots  easier  to  let  the  snow  do  the  job."  Then  he 
shuffled  down  stairs  and  scolded  his  wife  because 
breakfast  wasn't  ready. 

Peter  Tumbledown  threatens  to  "  stop  taking  the 
Farm  Journal"  He  says  that  it  "  makes  him  think, 
and  thinking  is  too  much  bother."  Poor  Peter.  The 
world  seems  to  be  a  hard  place  for  him.  Things  are 
continually  going  wrong  on  his  farm.  One  night 
last  week  he  forgot  to  shut  the  hen-house  door,  and 
his  half-fed  dog  killed  several  nice  hens.  Now  Peter 
blames  the  dog! 

Peter  Tumbledown,  though  not  a  tidy  farmer, 
has  a  good,  kind  heart.  He  has  been  known  to  loan 
to  a  neighbor  certain  farm  machinery  that  he  had 
borrowed  from  another  neighbor.  So  score  a  point 
for  Peter. 

His  horse  gets  sick,  his  chickens  die, 
His  crops  are  poor,  and  he  wonders  why. 
His  farm  with  weeds  is  a  thicket  dense ; 
Neighbor's  cows  go  through  his  fence ; 
They  eat  his  corn-and  tramp  it  down, 
While  he  gives  chase  with  yell  and  frown. 
But  he  never  mends  the  fence,  you  see, 
And  says,  "  It's  always  hard  times  with  me." 

Peter  Tumbledown's  city  cousin  visited  him  last 
summer.  After  dinner  the  cousin  walked  about 
Peter's  farm ;  but  the  longer  the  city  man  walked  the 
longer  grew  his  face.  After  staring  at  some  scraggy 
cows  he  returned  to  the  house  and  remarked  to 
Peter :  "  I  notice  you've  started  to  build  cows 
here."  Peter  looked  puzzled.  "  Well,"  explained 
the  cousin,  "  you  have  the  frames  up,  haven't  you?  " 

219 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

An  Indiana  subscriber  writes :  "  I  would  like  to 
see  more  of  Peter  Tumbledown ;  I  think  it  is  a  grand 
lesson  for  many  farmers'  sons.  I  have  raised  a 
family  of  six  sons  and  three  daughters,  and  I  am 
often  amused  to  see  how  soon  they  notice  when  any- 
thing gets  out  of  place,  or  a  board  loose  from  the 
fence ;  how  soon  it  is  said,  '  Peter  Tumbledown 
is  around.' " 

PETER'S  PRATTLE 
BY  WALT  MASON 

I  am  old  Peter  Tumbledown,  of  whom  you've 
doubtless  heard;  I've  won  a  national  renown  for 
doing  things  absurd.  Farm  Journal  readers,  every- 
where, for  more  than  three  decades,  the  patriarchs 
with  snowy  hair,  the  growing  boys  and  maids,  have 
watched  my  way  of  doing  things,  and  gurgled  as 
they  watched ;  "  his  wires  are  crossed,"  the  reader 
sings,  "  and  all  he  does  is  botched."  And  yet  I  keep 
on  doing  stunts  in  that  mad  way  of  mine;  you  see 
me  busy  raising  runts,  where  others  have  good  swine. 
My  cows  are  up  to  breachy  tricks,  and  sometimes 
break  a  leg.  I  always  keep  the  kind  of  chicks  that 
never  lay  an  egg.  They  say  I  make  my  farm  a  jest, 
and  waste  much  fertile  soil,  for  when  it's  fair  I 
always  rest,  and  when  it  rains  I  toil.  My  plows  are 
coated  red  with  rust,  outdoors  they're  always 
stowed;  my  doubletrees  are  sure  to  bust,  whene'er 
I'd  haul  a  load.  I  fear  I  am  a  false  alarm,  as  all 
your  readers  say ;  the  way  I  run  my  misfit  farm  was 
never  known  to  pay.  And  yet  I  have  some  use  on 
earth,  as  you  will  all  agree;  I  cause  a  lot  of  harm- 
less mirth,  and  fill  some  hearts  with  glee.  Wherever 
spreads  my  bright  renown,  you'll  hear  the  people 
sing:  "Just  watch  old  Peter  Tumbledown — and  do 
the  other  thing." 

220 


PETER  TUMBLEDOWN 

Occasionally  we  have  one  of  Our  Folks  write  us 
a  savage  letter  complaining  of  our  remarks  about 
Peter  Tumbledown,  threatening  to  stop  the  paper 
if  we  don't  quit.  Now  this  is  to  say  that  we  only 
mention  Peter's  doings  as  a  warning  to  others.  Some 
have  said  that  it  is  throwing  wet  cobs  at  them ;  but 
they  don't  mind  it:  they  dodge.  Our  object  is  not 
a  bad  one ;  it  is  to  stimulate  all  to  do  differently  from 
Peter.  We  have  good  reason  to  know  that  the 
effort  is,  on  the  whole,  good.  Our  own  farming  is 
not  allowed  to  degenerate  much,  for  fear  the  neigh- 
bors will  ask  us  if  we  have  sold  out  to  Peter.  There 
are  others. 

These  quotations  are  enough  to  inform  the  reader 
how  we  got  after  Peter  Tumbledown  and  set  all  his 
neighbors  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  and  from 
Canada  to  the  gulf  to  watch  his  doings  and  tease 
him  out  of  them.  My  purpose  was  not  only  to  wake 
Peter  Tumbledown  up,  but  to  stimulate  his  neigh- 
bors to  maintain  a  higher  standard  of  efficiency  in 
their  work  and  tidiness  about  their  premises. 

It  was  work  well  worth  doing,  and  I  hope  my 
readers  will  think  it  is  worth  the  telling. 


221 


CHAPTER  XV 

STORY  OF  A  SUGAR  BOWL 

AN  interesting  episode  in  the  life  of  the  Farm 
Journal  was  the  contest  for  the  seventh  sugar  bowl 
under  the  direction  of  Printers'  Ink  (that  "  School- 
master in  the  Art  of  Advertising  ")  a  history  of  which 
will  now  be  given. 

In  the  issue  of  the  Printers'  Ink  for  January  twenty- 
second,  1902,  appeared  the  following  notice: 

"  During  the  past  four  years  Printers'  Ink  has  made 
searching  inquiries  concerning  the  comparative 
merits  of  American  newspapers  of  various  sections 
and  classes,  and  has  given  six  awards,  in  each  case  a 
solid  silver  sugar  bowl,  made  by  Tiffany  and  Com- 
pany. The  details  of  the  examinations  were  fully 
set  forth  while  in  progress,  and  the  conclusions 
arrived  at  were  engraved  upon  the  souvenir. 

"  A  seventh  award  will  be  made  within  the  next 
few  months  to  the  agricultural  paper,  weekly,  semi- 
monthly, monthly,  or  however  issued,  that  better 
serves  its  purpose  than  any  other  as  an  educator  and 
counsellor  for  our  agricultural  population,  and  best 
serves  as  an  economical  medium  for  communicating 
with  that  class  through  its  advertising  columns  and 
on  the  fairest  terms,  price,  and  value  considered. 

"  The  contest  for  this  honor  is  now  open,  and 
the  claims  and  assertions  of  publishers  or  their 
friends  will  receive  due  consideration  from  Printers' 
Ink.  They  may  set  forth  in  their  own  manner  the 
points  of  superiority  of  one  paper  over  another,  and 
state  their  reasons  why  they  believe  that  a  particu- 

222 


STORY  OF  A  SUGAR  BOWL 

lar  paper  is  entitled  to  the  award  in  preference 
to  another." 

The  Farm  Journal  entered  the  contest  and  its  friends 
proceeded  to  furnish  evidence  that  the  seventh  sugar 
bowl  offered  by  Printers'  Ink  should  come  to  Phila- 
delphia to  adorn  the  mantelpiece  in  the  editor's  office. 
The  verdict  depended,  not  so  much  on  what  Wilmer 
Atkinson  Company  said  about  the  paper,  as  on  what 
Our  Folks  testified  concerning  it. 

Not  long  after  the  contest  had  opened,  it  devel- 
oped that  only  three  or  four  papers  stood  a  chance  of 
winning,  and  the  Farm  Journal  was  one  of  them.  Three 
of  the  others  that  came  next  were  American  Agricul- 
turist, Country  Gentleman,  and  Rural  New  Yorker. 

In  its  following  numbers  Printers'  Ink  began  at 
once  to  print  the  testimony  offered,  and  continued 
to  do  so  until  it  became  certain  that  the  Philadelphia 
paper  was  coming  in  ahead  on  the  home  stretch.  I 
can  give  space  in  this  book  for  only  a  few  letters 
received  and  printed  by  Printers'  Ink  in  behalf  of  the 
Farm  Journal. 

PATRONS  OF  HUSBANDRY 
NATIONAL  GRANGE,  OFFICE  OF  LECTURER 

Middlebush,  N.  J.,  June  7,  1902. 

EDITOR  OF  PRINTERS'  INK  : 

I  have  noticed  your  Sugar  Bowl  offer  in  Printers' 
Ink  and  desire  to  give  my  testimony  in  favor  of  that 
gem  of  all  the  agricultural  papers — the  Farm  Journal 
of  Philadelphia — not  only  as  the  best  in  all  lines  of 
farm,  orchard,  garden,  live  stock,  and  poultry,  but 
best  home  builder  and  home  preserver.  By  all  odds 
it  is  away  in  the  lead  as  best  serving  the  interests  of 
the  farmer,  as  a  producer,  a  man,  and  a  citizen.  If  I 
were  compelled  to  confine  myself  to  but  one  agri- 

223 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

cultural  paper,  even  at  the  cost  of  the  highest  priced 
one,  I  would  without  a  moment's  second  thought 
take  the  Farm  Journal.  My  neighbors  all  about  here 
say  the  same. 

MORTIMER  WHITEHEAD, 

Lecturer. 

A  farmer  from  West  Virginia  wrote :  The  Farm 
Journal  is  intensely  practical ;  it  contains  no  fiction ; 
it  deals  with  facts  rather  than  theories;  it  has  no 
long-winded,  theoretical  articles;  its  tone  is  moral, 
elevating,  and  beneficial  to  its  readers. 

I  have  taken  the  Farm  Journal  for  about  fifteen 
years,  and,  if  the  Lord  permits,  I  will  take  it  for 
fifteen  years  more.  I  have  taken  it  so  long  because 
it  contains  the  most  useful  information  in  the  least 
space  of  any  paper  published  in  the  English  lan- 
guage. Let  me  say  in  conclusion  that  the  Farm 
Journal  has  no  rivals,  it  is  distinctly  in  a  class  by 
itself,  and  were  Washington  or  Jefferson  alive  to- 
day they  would  certainly  declare  that  the  prosperity 
of  our  nation  depended  upon  the  farmer  and  the  Farm 
Journal,  one  and  inseparable,  now  and  forever. 

W.  F.  CLARK. 

Wilmington,  Vt.,  March  4,  1902. 
EDITOR  OF  PRINTERS'  INK: 

On  a  hill  way  up  in  Vermont  is  a  whole  family 
that  has  taken  the  Farm  Journal  for  twenty  years,  and 
read  it,  too,  and  enjoyed  it,  and  been  benefited  by  it 
in  many  ways.  It  is  unlike  other  papers  of  its  class 
in  many  respects:  ist,  in  its  short,  pithy  articles;  2d, 
in  the  tone  and  vim  of  its  reading  matter,  urging 
farmers  up  into  higher  and  better  ways,  agricul- 
tural and  domestic.  It  is  a  bugle  call  to  activity  and 
duty,  arousing  the  indolent  to  the  necessity  of  bet- 

224 


STORY  OF  A  SUGAR  BOWL 

taring  their  condition  and  that  of  those  around  them; 
3d,  in  its  advocacy  of  helpfulness  to  one  another  and 
care  and  kindness  in  the  treatment  of  "  our  other 
friends  " — the  dumb  animals.  In  short,  in  the  Farm 
Journal  we  find  the  wisest  suggestions,  the  quaintest 
sayings,  the  choicest  selections  of  prose,  and  the 
richest  and  most  appropriate  gems  of  poetry.  In  all 
these  respects  it  is  unique  and  without  a  peer,  and 
I  gladly  pay  this  sincere  tribute  to  its  worthiness 
and  worth. 

E.  A.  FITCH. 

Printers'  Ink  made  personal  inquiry  of  Cyrus 
Curtis  concerning  the  comparative  merits  of  the 
agricultural  papers ;  and  Mr.  Curtis  said  that  he  did 
not  know  anything  about  farmers  or  agriculture, 
but  he  did  have  some  knowledge  of  the  agricultural 
papers  that  had  been  mentioned  in  connection  with 
the  Printers'  Ink  Sugar  Bowl,  and  that  the  Rural  New 
Yorker  was  a  first-rate  paper,  and  the  Country  Gentle- 
man of  Albany  was  quite  as  good,  if  not  better,  and  he 
was  not  prepared  to  say  that  the  American  Agriculturist 
was  not  a  first-rate  agricultural  paper  in  every  way; 
but,  notwithstanding  all  that  might  be  said  about  the 
others  named,  or  any  others  that  might  be  named,  the 
Farm  Journal  of  Philadelphia  was,  in  Mr.  Curtis's  opin- 
ion, "  the  best  of  them  all  in  a  sense  that  it  reaches  the 
largest  number  of  farmers  solely  on  its  merits,  that 
it  seems  to  get  at  the  hearts  of  the  people  with  its 
plain,  homely  common  sense,  and  that  farmers  feel 
that  it  contains  more  practical  information  than 
most  other  publications  and  mixes  it  with  a  good 
deal  of  ginger." 

As  Mr.  Curtis  was  king  bee  in  the  publishing 
business  at  that  time,  as  he  is  now,  his  words  may  have 
had  much  weight  with  the  editor  of  Printers'  Ink  in 

15  22S 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

coming  to  a  decision.  Mr.  Curtis  thought  so  well 
of  the  Country  Gentleman  that  he  later  bought  it  and 
is  now  its  publisher. 

Hundreds  of  other  persons  wrote  for  the  Farm 
Journal,  but  I  have  no  room  in  this  book  for  any  other 
testimony  except  that  found  in  this  brief  summary : 

"  Its  articles  go  right  to  the  heart  of  things." 

"  Small,  condensed,  and  right  to  the  point." 

"  Its  first  and  most  important  quality  is  good 
faith,  sincerity,  squareness." 

"  It  can  tell  us  more  in  a  few  words  than  any 
paper  I  know  of." 

"  No  agricultural  paper  is  doing  so  much  to  edu- 
cate the  farmer." 

"  It  teems  with  proverbial  philosophy,  shrewd 
observations,  and  splendid  common  sense." 

"  It  is  amazing  to  see  how  much  pleasure  and 
profit  can  be  crowded  into  its  limited  space." 

"  The  real  interests  of  the  farmer  (and  espe- 
cially of  his  wife)  are  catered  to  with  a  care,  thor- 
oughness, and  withal  a  brevity  that  make  the  paper 
a  model  of  its  kind." 

"  When  we  began  housekeeping  it  was  our  guide. 
Other  journals  crowded  it  out,  and  we  ceased  to  be 
progressive.  Then  we  sent  in  a  five-year  subscrip- 
tion, and  if  the  time  ever  comes  when  a  late  copy  is 
not  found  in  the  house  it  will  be  after  we  have  gone." 

Very  soon  after  the  contest  opened,  I  wrote  to 
Printers'  Ink  and  requested  them  not  to  disparage  or 
allow  any  correspondent  to  disparage  any  of  our  com- 
petitors. I  said :  "  I  wish  no  word  printed  that 
would  in  any  way  tend  to  lessen  any  of  them  in  the 
estimation  of  the  public."  This  request  was  granted, 
for  there  was  nothing  derogatory  said  in  the  course 
of  the  contest  against  any  of  our  competitors. 

A  consideration  of  all  the  facts  presented  on  be- 
226 


STORY  OF  A  SUGAR  BOWL 

half  of  all  papers  in  the  contest  led  Printers'  Ink  to 
cause  the  following  paragraph  to  be  engraved  upon  the 
seventh  sugar  bowl  and  to  forward  the  same  to  the 
Farm  Journal  with  assurances  of  the  highest  consid- 
eration of  Printers'  Ink: 

"  AWARDED  JUNE  25*,  1902 

By  Printers'  Ink,  '  The  Little  Schoolmaster ' 

in  the  Art  of  Advertising,  to 

the  Farm  Journal. 

"After  a  canvassing  of  merits  extending  over  a 
period  of  half  a  year,  that  paper,  among  all  those 
published  in  the  United  States,  has  been  pronounced 
the  one  that  best  serves  its  purpose  as  an  educator 
and  counsellor  for  the  agricultural  population,  and 
as  an  effective  and  economical  medium  for  commu- 
nicating with  them  through  its  advertising  columns." 

The  seventh  sugar  bowl  was  promptly  received 
and  placed  amongst  the  other  souvenirs  won  by  the 
Farm  Journal. 

When  the  Farm  Journal  was  asked  by  Printers' 
Ink  what  it  deemed  the  real  reasons  for  its  success 
the  answer  came  as  follows :  "  It  is  a  home  builder 
and  home  preserver.  While  it  takes  due  interest  in 
all  the  brute  animals  on  the  farm,  the  best  care  is 
given  to  the  humans;  for  their  comfort  and  happi- 
ness it  strives — for  the  men  and  women,  the  boys 
and  girls,  the  tots,  the  father  and  mother,  the  hus- 
band and  wife,  the  son  and  daughter,  the  brother 
and  sister,  all  the  dear,  farm  home  folks — before  the 
cattle,  sheep  and  poultry,  or  the  pumpkins.  Its 
keynote  is  happy,  prosperous,  and  contented  rural 
homes  before  fat  hogs.  Fat  hogs  are  all  right,  but 
they  do  not  come  first." 

In  writing  to  Printers'  Ink  in  acknowledging  the 
227 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

news  of  our  success  and  the  acceptance  of  the  seventh 
sugar  bowl,  Mr.  Jenkins  wrote : 

FARM  JOURNAL  OFFICE, 

Phila.,  July  I,  1902. 

EDITOR  OF  PRINTERS'  INK: 

The  Seventh  Sugar  Bowl  without  warning  and 
unannounced  reached  us  last  week.  The  absence  of 
both  Mr.  Atkinson  and  the  writer  from  Philadelphia 
has  prevented  an  earlier  acknowledgment  of  it.  No 
higher  honor  could  come  to  any  paper  than  to  be 
awarded  the  prize  by  the  Little  Schoolmaster  in  the 
Art  of  Advertising,  after  a  six  months'  contest  on 
the  high  grounds  on  which  the  contest  was  based. 

For  twenty-five  years  the  Farm  Journal  has  been 
growing  in  circulation  and  influence  along  the  safe 
and  original  lines  laid  down  by  Wilmer  Atkinson 
when  he  started  the  paper  in  1877,  and  the  Sugar 
Bowl  comes  as  a  fitting  reward  on  this,  the  Silver 
Anniversary  of  the  paper's  life. 

As  for  the  bowl  itself,  it  is  a  beauty,  and  the  in- 
scription only  adds  to  its  charm. 
Very  truly, 

Wilmer  Atkinson  Co., 
Charles  F.  Jenkins,  Secretary. 


228 


FOR  READY  REFERENCE 


CHAPTER  XVI 
POOR  RICHARD  ALMANAC  REVIVED 

FOR  the  year  1910,  Wilmer  Atkinson  Company 
issued  the  first  number  of  Poor  Richard  Almanac  Re- 
vived, and  has  continued  its  publication  ever  since, 
the  issue  of  1920  being  the  eleventh  of  the  series. 
In  it,  year  after  year,  we  have  presented  the  maxims 
of  Poor  Richard,  which  are  known  to  have  exerted 
a  vast  influence  for  good  upon  the  generation  living 
at  the  time  of  its  publication,  and  for  several  years 
after  Franklin's  death. 

It  was  my  thought  that  people  living  at  this  time 
need  to  have  those  wise  maxims  set  before  them, 
even  more  than  the  people  did  in  the  early  history 
of  the  country,  when  economy  and  thrift  were  more 
compelling.  I  took  great  pleasure  in  editing  Poor 
Richard  Almanac  Revived  for  one-half  of  the  years 
that  it  has  been  published,  since  which  time  Mr. 
Kirkpatrick,  of  our  editorial  staff,  has  undertaken 
the  work  and  successfully  carried  it  on. 

Glancing  back  over  the  eleven  volumes  now  be- 
fore me  it  appears  that  there  is  scarcely  a  single  wise 
maxim  contained  in  the  original  Poor  Richard 
Almanac  but  is  reprinted  in  our  Poor  Richard  Almanac 
Revived.  These  have  been  laid  before  thousands  of 
persons  where  the  original  could  only  reach  hun- 
dreds— the  population  of  the  country  having  in- 
creased many  fold  since  Franklin's  time,  and  our 
company's  facilities  for  reaching  the  public  being  so 
much  greater  than  those  of  the  wise  old  philosopher 
who  conceived  and  published  Poor  Richard  Almanac 
for  the  twenty-five  years  beginning  with  1732  and  end- 

229 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

ing  with  1758.  The  editions  of  the  original  Poor 
Richard  Almanac  may  have  reached  ten  thousand  a 
year;  those  of  Poor  Richard  Revived  have  in  some 
years  approximated  one  hundred  thousand. 

There  were  in  the  several  generations  which  fol- 
lowed the  closing  years  of  the  publication  of  Poor 
Richard  Almanac,  many  imitations  printed,  but  none 
of  them  approaching  the  original  in  merit.  It  remained 
for  the  Farm  Journal  to  edit  and  publish  Poor  Richard 
Almanac  Revived,  which  is  worthy  of  the  name,  and 
which  will  be  scanned,  in  generations  to  come,  by 
those  who  appreciate  the  wise  sayings  of  Poor 
Richard,  for  here  they  can  be  found  in  convenient 
and  permanent  form.  No  copies  of  the  old  Poor 
Richard  Almanac  are  extant.  I  sought  diligently  to 
obtain  some  of  the  original  issues,  but  failed ;  many 
imitations  were  shown  me,  believed  to  be  genuine 
by  their  owners,  but  none  of  them  were  of  value.  A 
single  copy  of  the  original  is  worth  in  the  market 
five  hundred  dollars.  It  is  doubtful  whether  a  single 
perfect  copy  is  in  existence. 

I  fancy  it  will  be  some  time  before  Poor  Richard 
Almanac  Revived  will  be  worth  so  much,  because  it 
has  not  been  printed  by  Franklin  himself,  though  it 
contains  a  summing  up  of  all  his  best  maxims.  But 
the  time  may  come  when  for  the  sake  of  its  contents  it 
will  possess  a  value  many  times  greater  than  in  the 
generation  for  which  it  is  published. 

I  call  the  reader's  attention  to  this  work  because 
I  take  personal  pride  in  having  conceived  the  idea 
and  the  form  of  its  publication,  and  of  having  edited 
each  of  the  first  six  numbers ;  and  I  am  glad  of  the 
opportunity  to  place  before  the  reader  of  this  book 
more  than  one  hundred  of  Poor  Richard's  most  preg- 
nant maxims,  all  of  which  have  been  carefully 
selected  by  myself.  If  there  is  little  else  found  in 

230 


POOR  RICHARD  ALMANAC  REVIVED 

this  book  of  mine  of  any,  even  transient,  value, 
the  quotations  that  are  below  alone  will  justify 
its  publication. 

I  present  them  in  the  form  adopted  by  Franklin. 

POOR  RICHARD  says : 

The  old  man  has  given  all  to  his  son. 
O  fool !  to  undress  thyself  before  thou  art  going 
to  bed. 

The  poor  have  little ;  beggars  none ;  the  rich  too 
much ;  enough,  not  one. 

Poverty  wants  some  things,  luxury  many  things, 
avarice  all  things. 

The  family  of  fools  is  ancient. 

Big  talking  never  brought  in  money, 
No  more  than  hornets  bring  in  honey. 

To  whom  thy  secret  thou  dost  tell, 
To  him  thy  freedom  thou  dost  sell. 

A  lie  stands  on  one  leg,  truth  on  two. 

The  sound  of  your  hammer  at  five  in  the  morn- 
ing, or  nine  at  night,  heard  by  a  creditor,  makes  him 
easy  six  months  longer ;  but  if  he  sees  you  at  a  bil- 
liard-table, or  hears  your  voice  at  a  tavern,  when 
you  should  be  at  work,  he  sends  for  his  money  the 
next  day. 

Those  that  govern  most  make  the  least  noise. 

Each  year  one  vicious  habit  routed  out, 
In  time  might  make  the  worst  man  good  through- 
out. 

231 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

As  having  their  own  way  is  one  of  the  greatest 
comforts  of  life  to  old  people,  I  think  their  friends 
should  endeavor  to  accommodate  them  in  that,  as 
well  as  in  anything  else.  When  they  have  long 
lived  in  a  house,  it  becomes  natural  to  them;  they 
are  almost  as  closely  connected  with  it  as  the  tor- 
toise with  his  shell ;  they  die,  if  you  tear  them  out 
of  it ;  old  folks  and  old  trees,  if  you  remove  them,  it 
is  ten  to  one  that  you  kill  them.  We  are  growing 
old  fast  ourselves,  and  shall  expect  the  same  kind  of 
indulgence ;  if  we  give  them,  we  shall  have  a  right  to 
receive  them  in  our  turn. 

Tongue  double  brings  trouble. 

He  is  ill  clothed  who  is  bare  of  virtue. 

Death  is  a  fisherman,  the  world  we  see 
His  fish-pond  is,  and  we  the  fishes  be. 

A  wicked  hero  will  turn  his  back  to  an  innocent 
coward. 

Laws,  like  cobwebs,  catch  small  flies, 
Great  ones  break  through  before  your  eyes. 

Strange,  that  he  who  lives  by  shifts,  can  seldom 
shift  himself. 

For  age  and  want  save  while  you  may, 
No  morning  sun  lasts  a  whole  day. 

There  are  two  ways  of  being  happy — we  may 
either  diminish  our  wants  or  augment  our  means — 
either  will  do,  the  result  is  the  same ;  and  it  is  for 
each  man  to  decide  for  himself,  and  do  that  which 
happens  to  be  easiest.  If  you  are  idle  or  sick  or 
poor,  however  hard  it  may  be  to  diminish  your 

232 


wants,  it  will  be  harder  to  augment  your  means.  If 
you  are  active  or  prosperous  or  young  or  in  good 
health,  it  may  be  easier  for  you  to  augment  your 
means  than  to  diminish  your  wants.  But  if  you  are 
wise,  you  will  do  both  at  the  same  time,  young  or 
old,  rich  or  poor,  sick  or  well;  and  if  you  are  very 
wise  you  will  do  both  in  such  a  way  as  to  augment 
the  general  happiness  of  society. 

A  rich  rogue  is  like  a  fat  hog,  who  never  does 
good  till  as  dead  as  a  log. 

Time  is  an  herb  that  cures  all  diseases. 
Creditors  have  better  memories  than  debtors. 

As  sore  places  meet  most  rubs,  proud*  folks  meet 
most  affronts. 

When  'tis  fair,  be  sure  to  take  your  great  coat 
with  you. 

Love,  cough,  and  a  smoke,  can't  well  be  hid. 

Wouldst  thou  enjoy  a  long  life,  a  healthy  body, 
and  a  vigorous  mind,  and  be  acquainted  also  with 
the  wonderful  works  of  God,  labour  in  the  first  place 
to  bring  thy  appetite  into  subjection  to  reason. 

Since  thou  art  not  sure  of  a  minute,  throw  not 
away  an  hour. 

A  countryman  between  two  lawyers  is  like  a  fish 
between  two  cats. 

After  crosses  and  losses,  men  grow  humbler 
and  wiser. 

Every  little  makes  a  mickle. 
233 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

He  that  is  rich  need  not  live  sparingly,  and  he 
that  can  live  sparingly  need  not  be  rich. 

Experience  keeps  a  dear  school,  but  fools  will 
learn  in  no  other,  and  scarce  in  that;  for  it  is  true, 
we  may  give  advice,  but  we  cannot  give  conduct. 
However,  remember  this,  they  that  won't  be  coun- 
selled, can't  be  helped ;  and  farther,  that  if  you  will 
not  hear  reason,  she'll  surely  rap  your  knuckles. 

A  wag,  seeing  a  door  nearly  off  its  hinges,  in 
which  condition  it  had  been  for  some  time,  observed 
that  when  it  had  fallen  and  killed  some  one  it  would 
probably  be  hung. 

After  feasts  made,  the  maker  scratches  his  head. 

Sal  laughs  at  everything  you  say.  Why?  Be- 
cause she  has  fine  teeth. 

The  poor  man  must  walk  to  get  meat  for  his 
stomach,  the  rich  man  to  get  a  stomach  for  his  meat. 

Here  comes  the  orator  with  his  flood  of  words 
and  drop  of  reason. 

Let  thy  maid  servant  be  faithful,  strong  and 
homely. 

Are  you  idle  to-day,  don't  go  whittling  and 
drumming, 

Get  things  under  way  for  the  busy  time  coming. 

When  will  the  miser's  chest  be  full  enough? 
When  will  he  cease  his  bags  to  cram  and  stuff? 
All  day  he  labors,  and  all  night  contrives, 
Providing  as  if  he'd  an  hundred  lives. 

Three  may  keep  a  secret  if  two  of  them  are  dead. 
234 


POOR  RICHARD  ALMANAC  REVIVED 
The  rotten  apple  spoils  his  companion. 

To  bear  other  people's  afflictions,  every  one  has 
courage  and  enough  to  spare. 

Kate  would  have  Thomas,  no  one  blame  her  can ; 
Thomas  won't  have  Kate,  and  who  can  blame 
the  man?  <. 

He  that  riseth  late,  must  trot  all  day,  and  scarce 
overtakes  his  business  at  night. 

He  that  speaks  ill  of  the  mare  will  buy  her. 

Great  talkers  should  be  crop'd,  for  they  have  no 
need  of  ears. 

Hunger  never  saw  bad  bread. 

Kings  and  bears  often  worry  their  keepers. 

Tom,  moderate  fare  and  abstinence  much  prizes 
In  publick,  but  in  private  gormandizes. 

Late  children,  early  orphans. 

Ben  beats  his  pate,  and  fancies  wit  will  come ; 
But  he  may  knock,  there's  nobody  at  home. 

Hold  your  temper  to-day,  you'll  be  glad  on  the 

morrow ; 
But  give  it  away  and  for  weeks  you  will  know 

sorrow. 

In  crimes  men  are  stupid — the  proverb  says  well ; 
The  thief  stops  his  ears  when  he's  stealing  a  bell. 

A  quarrelsome  man  has  no  good  neighbors. 

Vice  knows  she's  ugly,  so  puts  on  her  mask. 
235 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Virtue  and  Happiness  are  mother  and  daughter. 
He's  a  fool  that  makes  his  doctor  his  heir. 
Pride  and  gout  are  seldom  cured  throughout. 
Why  does  a  blind  man's  wife  paint  herself? 

A  long  life  may  not  be  good  enough,  but  a  good 
life  is  long  enough. 

A  change  of  fortune  hurts  a  wise  man  no  more 
than  the  change  of  the  moon. 

Wipe  off  the  sorrowing  tear  from  Virtue's  eyes, 
Bid  Honesty  oppress'd,  again  arise: 
Protect  the  widow,  give  the  aged  rest, 
And  blessing  live,  and  die  forever  blest. 

He  that  scatters  thorns,  let  him  not  go  barefoot. 

He  that  would  live  in  peace  and  at  ease, 

Must  not  speak  all  he  knows,  nor  judge  all  he  sees. 

Who  has  deceived  thee  so  oft  as  thyself? 

A  penny  saved  is  two  pence  clear.    A  pin  a  day 
is  a  groat  a  year.    Save  and  have. 

Is  there  anything  men  take  more  pains  about 
than  to  make  themselves  unhappy? 

Keep  your  eyes  wide  open  before  marriage,  half 
shut  afterwards. 

Sell  not  virtue  to  purchase  wealth,  nor  liberty  to 
purchase  power. 

Let  thy  vices  die  before  thee. 
236 


POOR  RICHARD  ALMANAC  REVIVED 

At  the  working  man's  house  hunger  looks  in,  but 
dares  not  enter. 

The  worst  wheel  of  the  cart  makes  the  most  noise. 

I  never  saw  an  oft  transplanted  tree, 

Nor  yet  an  oft-removed  family, 

That  throve  so  well  as  those  that  settled  be. 

He  that  pursues  two  hares  at  once,  does  not 
catch  one  and  lets  t'other  go. 

If  you  do  what  you  should  not,  you  must  hear 
what  you  would  not. 

Rash  mortals,  ere  you  take  a  wife. 
Contrive  your  pile  to  last  for  life. 

Happy's  the  wooing  that's  not  long  a-doing. 
Jack  Little  sow'd  little,  and  little  he'll  reap. 
Wealth  is  not  his  that  has  it,  but  his  that  enjoys  it. 

Don't  throw  stones  at  your  neighbors,  if  your 
own  windows  are  glass. 

He  that  sells  upon  trust,  loses  many  friends,  and 
always  wants  money. 

The  heart  of  a  fool  is  in  his  mouth,  but  the  mouth 
of  a  wise  man  is  in  his  heart. 

Visits  should  be  short,  like  a  winter's  day, 
Lest  you're  too  troublesome,  hasten  away. 

You  will  excuse  me,  dear  readers,  that  I  afford 
you  no  eclipse  of  the  moon  this  year.  The  truth  is,  I 
do  not  find  they  do  you  any  good. 

237 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Dost  thou  love  Life?  Then  do  not  squander 
Time,  for  that  is  the  stuff  Life  is  made  of. 

What  we  call  time  enough  always  proves  little 
enough. 

Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise 

Makes  a  man  healthy,  wealthy  and  wise. 

There  are  no  gains  without  pains. 

Here  you  all  go  to-day  at  this  vendue  of  fineries 
and  knickknacks.  You  want  that  goods,  but  if  you 
do  not  take  care  they  will  prove  evils  to  some  of  you. 
You  expect  they  will  be  sold  cheap,  but  if  you  have 
no  occasion  for  them  they  must  be  dear  to  you ;  'tis 
foolish  to  lay  out  money  in  a  purchase  of  repentance, 
and  yet  this  folly  is  practiced  every  day  at  vendues 
for  want  of  minding  what  Poor  Richard  says. 

This  year  the  stone-blind  shall  see  but  very  little ; 
the  deaf  shall  hear  but  poorly ;  and  the  dumb  shan't 
speak  very  plain.  Whole  flocks,  herds,  and  droves 
of  sheep,  swine  and  oxen,  cocks  and  hens,  ducks  and 
drakes,  geese  and  ganders  shall  go  to  pot;  but  the 
mortality  will  not  be  altogether  so  great  among  cats, 
dogs  and  horses.  As  to  old  age,  'twill  be  incurable 
this  year,  because  of  the  years  past.  And  towards 
the  fall  some  people  will  be  seized  with  an  unac- 
countable inclination  to  roast  and  eat  their  own  ears. 
But  the  worst  disease  of  all  will  be  a  certain  most 
horrid,  dreadful,  malignant,  malady,  almost  epidemi- 
cal, insomuch  that  many  shall  run  mad  upon  it;  I 
assure  you  very  few  will  escape  this  disease;  which 
is  called  by  the  learned  Lacko'mony. 

A  fat  kitchen  makes  a  lean  will. 
238 


POOR  RICHARD  ALMANAC  REVIVED 

You  may  think  perhaps  that  a  little  tea  or  a 
little  punch  now  and  then,  a  little  more  costly  cloth, 
a  little  finery,  and  a  little  entertainment  now  and 
then  can  be  no  great  matter;  but  remember  what 
Poor  Richard  says:  Many  a  little  makes  a  mickle; 
and  beware  of  little  expenses ;  a  small  leak  will  sink 
a  great  ship ;  and,  moreover,  fools  make  feasts  and 
wise  men  eat  them. 

One  to-day  is  worth  two  to-morrows;  have  you 
somewhat  to  do  to-morrow?  Do  it  to-day. 

Handle  your  tools  without  mittens ;  remember 
that  the  cat  in  gloves  catches  no  mouse. 

Three  removes  are  as  bad  as  a  fire. 

Not  to  oversee  workmen  is  to  leave  them  your 
purse  open. 

Sometimes  a  little  neglect  may  breed  great  mis- 
chief ;  for  want  of  a  nail  the  shoe  was  lost ;  for  want 
of  a  shoe  a  horse  was  lost,  and  for  want  of  a  horse 
the  rider  was  lost,  being  overtaken  and  slain  by  the 
enemy ;  all  for  want  of  care  about  a  horseshoe  nail. 

If  you  would  know  the  value  of  money,  go  and 
try  to  borrow  some,  for  he  that  goes  a-borrowing 
goes  a-sorrowing. 

Pride  is  as  loud  a  beggar  as  want,  and  a  great 
deal  more  saucy,  for  when  you  have  bought  one  fine 
thing  you  must  buy  ten  more  that  your  members 
may  be  all  of  a  piece,  but  Poor  Richard  says :  It  is 
easier  to  suppress  the  first  desire  than  to  satisfy  all 
that  follow  it. 

239 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Don't  after  foreign  food  and  clothing  roam, 
But  learn  to  eat  and  wear  what's  rais'd  at  Home. 

Would  you  live  with  ease, 

Do  what  you  ought ;  not  what  you  please. 

To  be  intimate  with  a  foolish  friend  is  like  going 
to  bed  with  a  razor. 

Who  is  wise?    He  that  learns  from  every  one. 
Who  is  powerful?    He  that  governs  his  passions. 
Who  is  rich?    He  that  is  content. 
Who  is  that?    Nobody. 

They  that  won't  be  counseled  can't  be  helped. 

Act  uprightly ;  dirt  may  stick  to  a  mud  wall,  but  not 
to  polished  marble. 

Harry  Smatter  has  a  mouth  for  every  matter. 
If  Jack's  in  love,  he's  no  judge  of  Jill's  beauty. 
If  your  head  is  wax,  don't  walk  in  the  sun. 

Can  Wealth  give  Happiness? 

Look  round  and  see. 

What  gay  Distress!    What  splendid  Misery! 
Whatever  Fortune  lavishly  can  pour 
The  Mind  annihilates,  and  calls  for  more. 

All  would  live  long,  but  none  would  be  old. 
Most  of  the  learning  in  use  is  of  no  great  use. 
A  man  in  a  passion  rides  a  mad  horse. 
If  you  would  be  loved,  love  and  be  lovable. 

There  never  was  a  good  knife  made  of  bad  steel. 
240 


POOR  RICHARD  ALMANAC  REVIVED 

Sloth   makes   all   things   difficult,   but   industry 
all  easy. 

Don't  overload  gratitude;  if  you  do,  she'll  kick. 

Tricks  and  treachery  are  the  practice  of  fools  that 
have  not  wit  enough  to  be  honest. 

Buy  what  thou  hast  no  need  of,  and  ere  long  thou 
shalt  sell  thy  necessaries. 


241 
16 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  BATTLE  FOR  THE  BIRDS 

IN  the  fall  of  1912  the  purpose  of  establishing  a 
bird  club  in  connection  with  the  Farm  Journal  was 
taking  shape,  and  in  the  January  number  following 
we  made  the  announcement  in  the  paper  that  the 
battle  for  the  birds  had  begun,  and  that  it  was  deter- 
mined that  the  fight  should  be  carried  on  until  the 
American  people  should  better  understand  the  value 
of  bird  life  and  take  measures  to  save  it.  Primarily 
our  job  was  to  reach  the  younger  generation,  for  we 
knew  that  on  them  depended  whether  our  feathered 
friends  are  to  be  conserved  or  exterminated. 

The  club  was  formed  and  called  the  Liberty  Bell 
Bird  Club,  with  Wilmer  Atkinson,  President,  and 
Charles  P.  Shoffner,  Secretary.  The  motto  of  the 
club  is :  "  Protect  Our  Feathered  Friends."  We 
placed  the  following  notice  at  the  head  of  the  Bird 
Department,  where  it  has  stood  in  every  issue  since 
that  time :  "  Keep  the  pledge,  sign  your  name  and 
address,  send  a  three-cent  stamp  to  us,  and  your 
name  will  be  enrolled,  the  club  badge  and  a  2O-paged 
Bird  Guide  will  be  sent  you.  There  are  no  dues,  no 
fines  and  no  assessments." 

Boys  and  girls  were  urged  to  speak  to  their 
school  teachers  and  ask  them  to  organize  clubs.  We 
resolved  that,  no  matter  what  the  cost,  the  influence 
of  our  club  should  be  made  known  and  felt  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  We  recognized  no 
state  lines. 

The  club  was  a  side  issue  of  our  business,  not 
meant  to  have  any  direct  financial  value  to  Wilmer 

242 


A  BATTLE  FOR  THE  BIRDS 

Atkinson  Company,  and  such,  indeed,  has  been  the 
case.  There  has  never  been  any  profit  in  it  except 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  we  were  engaged  in 
a  beneficent  work.  On  the  other  hand,  the  outlay 
has  been  great ;  many  thousands  of  dollars  each  year 
have  been  spent  in  promoting  the  objects  of  the  club. 

We  had  a  splendid  opportunity  to  carry  forward 
the  project  because  at  that  time  the  circulation  of  the 
Farm  Journal  had  reached  eight  hundred  thousand 
and  was  still  on  the  increase,  and  because,  from  the 
character  of  the  paper,  it  had  acquired  great  influence 
with  its  readers,  especially  with  the  young  people. 
It  is  probably  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  one  mil- 
lion boys  and  girls  were  watching  with  interest  the 
monthly  arrival  of  the  Farm  Journal  at  their  homes. 

Our  definite  purpose  was  to  teach  our  members 
to  be  friends  of  the  birds,  to  learn  their  habits,  to 
protect  their  nests,  to  put  up  boxes  for  them,  to  feed 
and  water  them  in  winter,  and  stand  guard  over  them 
against  all  their  enemies,  of  whatever  kind,  at 
all  seasons. 

In  a  statement  made  in  our  July  number,  1913,  I 
said :  "  It  is  not  required  of  any  member  of  the 
Liberty  Bell  Bird  Club  to  subscribe  for  the  Farm 
Journal;  we  do  not  ask  it,  but  we  do  ask  every  man, 
woman  and  child  to  help  us  to  awaken  interest  in 
bird  life.  We  are  in  this  campaign  to  teach  the 
youth  of  America  to  love  and  protect  the  birds,  and 
we  shall  not  weary  in  well  doing,  no  matter  what 
the  cost,  or  whether  it  brings  grist  to  the  Farm 
Journal  mill  or  not.  Save  the  birds;  the  Farm  Journal 
can  take  care  of  itself." 

To  indicate  the  spirit  of  our  work  I  quote  an- 
other notice :  "  No  boy  can  be  a  true  bird  lover  who 
will  destroy  birds'  nests.  The  nest  should  be  just 
as  sacred  as  the  bird.  If  we  want  to  increase  the 

243 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

number  of  our  birds,  the  nests  must  have  absolute 
protection.  The  reason  we  have  tried  so  hard  to 
have  bird-houses  put  up  all  over  the  United  States 
is  that  the  birds  may  nest  in  safety."  We  said  fur- 
ther :  "  To  study  the  birds  it  is  not  necessary  to 
touch  the  nest  or  its  eggs.  Make  a  census  of  all 
nests,  and  note  the  color,  size  and  number  of  eggs 
that  you  see,  but  on  no  consideration  touch  them. 
We  sincerely  hope  that  boys  who  rob  nests  are 
thoughtless  and  do  not  realize  what  they  are  doing. 
It  is  only  just  that  any  member  who  does  not  live  up 
to  his  or  her  pledge  should  have  the  button  taken 
away  and  his  or  her  name  stricken  from  the  honor 
roll  of  the  Liberty  Bell  Bird  Club.  Protect  the 
birds,  their  nests,  their  eggs,  and  their  young.  Do 
this  and  the  Liberty  Bell  Bird  Club  will  be  proud  to 
have  you  as  a  member." 

The  following  advice  was  given  the  Farm  Journal 
boys  and  girls  in  the  spring  of  1916:  "  Every  year 
more  varieties  of  birds  appreciate  the  safety  and 
comfort  of  man-made  houses  for  nesting  purposes. 
Closed  houses  will  attract  wrens,  bluebirds,  fly- 
catchers, flickers,  woodpeckers,  screech-owls,  barn- 
owls,  tree-swallows,  nuthatches,  titmice,  starlings, 
wood-ducks,  chickadees  and  sparrow-hawks.  Purple 
martins  live  in  colonies,  and  houses  containing  many 
rooms  will  attract  them.  Open  houses  on  brackets 
attract  robins,  cat-birds,  phoebes,  brown  thrashers, 
king-birds  and  song-sparrows ;  and  if  fastened  under 
eaves  they  will  attract  barn-swallows,  cliff-swallows, 
eave-swallows  and  swifts." 

Such  was  our  marvellous  success  with  the  Liberty 
Bell  Bird  Club  that  not  only  thousands  of  young 
people  all  over  the  country  signed  the  pledge,  joined 
the  club,  and  became  bird  lovers  and  bird  protectors, 
but  tens  of  thousands  and  hundreds  of  thousands. 

244 


1914 

I9IS 

85,108 
00,678 

260,000 
265,000 

103,000 

270,000 

110,000 
128,000 
135,000 

330,000 
410,000 
491,629 

144,000 

525,000 

145,000 

525,901 

147,000 
150,000 

532,000 
536,000 

151,000 
176,000 

540,000 
544,703 

A  BATTLE  FOR  THE  BIRDS 

Here  is  the  table  of  progress  from  January,  1913,  to 
December,  1915: 

1913 

January  i 

February 500 

March    1,500 

April    10,000 

May   17,000 

June  50,000 

July    70,000 

August    71,000 

September    73,5OO 

October    76,000 

November  77 ,000 

December   80,000 

This  is  the  way  the  Farm  Journal  talked  to  its 
great  army  of  young  people  in  the  January  number  of 
1917:  "We  are  well  pleased  that  more  than  736,000 
men  and  women  and  children  have  signed  our 
pledge,  put  up  bird-houses  and  done  so  well ;  but  we 
are  not  going  to  lie  down  on  our  job.  No,  indeed ! 
We're  up  and  doing.  Why  don't  we  have  a  million  ? 
Have  you,  as  an  individual  member,  done  your  duty 
the  past  year?  Let  each  ask  himself  or  herself  that 
question,  then  go  ahead  and  work  for  the  future. 
Last  year  is  dead,  but  a  glorious  new  one  is  at  hand. 
'Tis  enthusiasm  that  moves  the  world  and  makes  it 
a  real  dwelling-place.  Don't  give  up ;  if  you  did  not 
win,  take  a, brace;  make  a  fresh  start  and  something 
will  happen.  Wre  want  every  member  to  be  an  en- 
thusiastic worker  for  the  birds.  No,  friends  of  ours, 
this  is  not  a  sermon;  just  a  warm  hand-clasp;  and 
with  it  goes  a  good  brotherly  slap  on  the  back,  the 
hope  that  you  will  not  grow  weary  of  bird  work, 
and  a  great  big  wish  that  each  one  of  you  will  have  a 
happy  and  prosperous  New  Year." 

At  the  end  of  six  years  of  the  battle  for  the  birds 
we  were  able  to  announce  that  the  club  membership 
had  reached  eight  hundred  and  fifty-seven  thousand, 

245 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

an  average  of  four  hundred  a  day  since  the  begin- 
ning, and  also  to  announce  that  thousands  of  farms 
had  been  made  bird  sanctuaries ;  that  in  many  schools 
bird  classes  were  then  a  regular  feature ;  bird-houses, 
feeding  stations  and  bird  baths  were  everywhere 
seen ;  the  winter  birds  were  being  fed,  the  bird  laws 
observed  and  many  weary  bird  workers  and  clubs 
encouraged  to  keep  on.  "  But,"  we  said,  "  much 
more  remains  to  be  done.  Read  over  your  pledge ; 
bring  in  new  members ;  send  interesting  reports  and 
bird  pictures  to  the  secretary,  and  keep  up  your 
enthusiasm.  Insects  still  cause  a  loss  of  $1,300,- 
000,000  every  year.  The  birds  are  the  insects' 
natural  enemy.  Give  the  birds  a  lift.  Here's 
our  hand." 

A  good  move  for  bird  conservation  was  made 
when  more  than  two  hundred  bird-houses,  several 
feeding  stations  and  more  than  two  dozen  suet 
baskets  were  installed  in  West  Laurel  Hill  and 
Laurel  Hill  cemeteries,  Philadelphia.  The  Liberty 
Bell  Bird  Club  brought  the  subject  of  bird  protec- 
tion before  the  managers  of  these  cemeteries,  who 
were  quick  to  see  the  benefits  that  would  be  derived 
from  increasing  the  number  of  birds.  We  said : 
"  Cemeteries  are  ideal  for  bird  sanctuaries.  We 
sincerely  hope  that  the  example  of  the  managers  of 
these  cemeteries  will  be  followed  by  others  all  over  the 
country,  and  we  shall  be  very  glad  to  assist  any  ceme- 
tery or  other  company  in  planning  a  bird  sanctuary." 

The  Liberty  Bell  Bird  Club  was  one  of  the  first, 
if  not  the  first,  to  approve  the  establishment  of  a 
protected  plot  dedicated  to  the  birds  in  every  state 
throughout  the  country,  in  all  cemeteries  and  on 
every  farm.  We  have  now  four  special  bird  sanc- 
tuaries where  birds  are  protected  and  carefully  and 
scientifically  studied  for  the  benefit  of  the  members : 

246 


A  BATTLE  FOR  THE  BIRDS 

number  one  on  Wallop's  Island,  Virginia;  number 
two  at  Whealton  Game  Farm,  Chincoteague  Island, 
Virginia;  number  three  at  Buck  Hill  Falls,  Pennsyl- 
vania; and  number  four  at  Cobb's  Island,  Maryland. 

Mr.  Warren,  leading  bird  advocate  of  Pennsyl- 
vania and  author  of  a  book  entitled  "  Birds  of  Penn- 
sylvania," in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Shoffner,  per- 
sonally put  up  over  six  hundred  bird-houses  on 
Wallop's  Island,  Virginia;  two  hundred  and  fifty  on 
Chincoteague  Island,  Virginia.  At  Buck  Hill  Falls 
Mr.  Shoffner  and  Mr.  A.  S.  Jenkins  put  up  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  bird-houses,  and  Mr. 
Shoffner  put  up  one  hundred  houses  on  Cobb's 
Island,  Maryland.  It  is  no  small  job  to  put  up  one 
hundred  bird-houses. 

The  Liberty  Bell  Bird  Club  urged  that  every 
farm  should  have  a  portion  set  apart  for  birds,  advis- 
ing that  if  a  proper  variety  of  trees,  shrubs  and  vines 
be  planted,  the  birds  will  not  disturb  fruit.  The 
following  trees,  shrubs  and  vines  were  recommended 
for  the  purpose : 

"  Trees — box-elder,  dogwood,  mulberry,  hank- 
berry,  whitethorn,  whiteash,  bird,  black  and  choke- 
berry,  birch,  balsam  fir,  red  cedar,  Norway  and 
pitch  pine. 

"  Shrubs — barberry,  shadbush,  silky  cornel,  black 
alder,  bayberry,  chokeberry,  pokeberry,  blueberry, 
elderberry,  smooth  sumach,  dangleberry,  black  haw, 
high-bush  cranberry,  holly,  Indian  currant,  snow- 
berry,  sweetbriar  rose,  swamp  gooseberry,  privet,  wild 
rose  and  buck  thorn ;  and  the  vines — moonseed,  Virginia 
creeper,  fox-grape,  frost-grape  and  bittersweet." 

We  furnished  our  members,  at  cost,  a  number  of 
educational  pamphlets  adapted  for  bird  study  in 
schools,  and  also  bird  guides,  telescopes,  bird  dic- 
tionaries, government  bulletins  showing  fifty  com- 

247 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

mon  birds  in  natural  colors,  and  tens  of  thousands  of 
warning  posters,  "  Spare  the  Birds." 

We  had  designed  and  printed  at  great  expense 
pictures  of  twenty-five  native  birds  as  follows :  Barn 
owl,  purple  martin,  English  sparrow,  white-breasted 
nuthatch,  blue  jay,  robin,  red-winged  blackbird,  song 
sparrow,  red-headed  woodpecker,  barn  swallow,  blue 
bird,  king  bird,  brown  thrasher,  cardinal,  hairy  wood- 
pecker, indigo  bunting,  red-eyed  vireo,  quail,  Balti- 
more oriole,  black-capped  chickadee,  cedar  wax  wing, 
night  hawk,  flicker,  yellow-breasted  chat,  ruby- 
throated  humming  bird.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  nothing  in  the  form  of  bird  pictures  in  natural 
colors  has  ever  excelled  those  issued  by  the  Liberty 
Bell  Bird  Club,  and  we  sent  out  many  thousands  of 
them.  They  have  proved  of  inestimable  value  for 
bird  study  in  homes  and  schools. 

Below  is  a  copy  of  a  letter  which  shows  how  the 
good  work  goes  on : 

March  29,  1920. 

Liberty  Bell  Bird  Club, 
Philadelphia,  Penna. 

GENTLEMEN  : 

Please  find  enclosed  3  cents  for  the  Guide  Book 
and  Membership  Button.  I  have  just  been  appointed 
Special  Prosecutor  for  the  Liberty  Bell  Bird  Club 
which  has  been  formed  in  our  city  by  a  special  city 
ordinance,  establishing  a  sanctuary  and  a  penal 
ordinance  in  cooperation  with  the  state  federal  lines. 
Very  truly  yours, 

K.  B.  TAYLOR, 
Poteau,  Okla.  Attorney  at  Law. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  we  are  well  pleased 
with  the  wise  action  of  the  city  council  of  Poteau, 

248 


A  BATTLE  FOR  THE  BIRDS 

and  trust  many  other  cities  and  towns  will  follow 
this  example. 

It  was  fortunate  that  at  the  time  a  battle  for  the 
birds  had  begun  we  had  on  our  editorial  staff  Mr. 
Charles  P.  Shoffner,  a  genuine  lover  of  birds  and 
a  close  student  of  bird  life,  to  whom,  after  the  first 
year  or  two,  the  Bird  Department  was  assigned. 
Mr.  Shoffner  is  a  person  of  marked  enthusiasm,  and 
he  went  into  the  fight  not  only  fully  equipped  with 
knowledge  of  the  subject,  but  with  a  heart  that  went 
out  in  sympathy  for  both  the  children  and  the  birds. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  writing  the  first  circulars 
and  outlining  the  plan  of  work,  but  as  I  said,  the 
enterprise  in  due  time  was  turned  over  to  Mr. 
Shoffner.  My  confidence  in  his  ability  to  carry  out 
the  work  of  the  club  has  been  fully  justified,  and  I 
rejoice  exceedingly  that  the  Farm  Journal  could 
afford  an  opportunity  for  Mr.  Shoffner  to  under- 
take this  beneficent  enterprise.  His  name  ought  to 
go  down  in  the  history  of  bird  conservation  with 
that  of  Audubon,  and  ought  similarly  to  be  honored 
by  future  generations  who  are  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
their  studies  and  labors.  Audubon  did  pioneer  work ; 
Shoffner  has  spent  years  in  informing  the  young 
people  of  this  generation  about  birds,  in  teaching 
them  how  to  protect  them,  and  persuading  them  to 
do  so.  I  may  also  say  that  a  large  share  of  the  credit 
due  the  Farm  Journal  for  establishing  the  Liberty 
Bell  Bird  Club,  and  financing  it  without  a  dollar  of 
outside  aid,  is  due  to  my  nephew,  Charles  F. 
Jenkins,  Vice-president  of  Wilmer  Atkinson  Company. 

It  is  to  me  a  source  of  peculiar  pride  that,  in  the 
course  of  my  life,  I  have  been  a  factor,  even  though  a 
small  one,  in  this  splendid  work  of  bird  protection 
and  bird  conservation  in  the  United  States.  Blessed 
are  the  birds ! 

249 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  FARM  JOURNAL  SPIRIT 

Blest  is  the  man  whose  wish  and  care 
Is  just  to  be  happy  anywhere. 

SUNSHINE  for  you,  gentle  reader,  and  happy  days ! 

The  Farm  Journal  has  a  soul  which  speaks  to  the 
souls  of  its  readers,  and  it  must  never  lose  that 
soul.  Hence  comes  the  exceeding  care  we  take  in 
selecting  associates. 

There  is  a  mission  for  humor.  The  man  who  can 
make  others  laugh  may  be  a  great  blessing  to  his 
fellows.  There  are  times  in  one's  experience  when 
a  bit  of  fun  is  better,  more  a  means  of  grace,  than  a 
serious  sermon  would  be.  There  are  times  when  the 
best  help  we  can  give  a  friend  is  to  make  him  laugh. 
A  hearty  laugh  would  cure  many  a  sickly  feeling, 
drive  away  the  blues,  and  change  the  whole  aspect 
of  life  for  a  man. 

If  you  see  it  in  the  Farm  Journal  paste  it  in  your 
hat;  it  is  so. 

We  like  to  hoe — if  the  hoe  is  sharp — if  the 
weather  is  cool — if  we  are  not  tired — and  if  the  day 
is  short.  Don't  you? 

It  is  a  waste  of  time  to  kick  the  cows. 

Not  one  man  in  ten  knows  how  big  the  bald  spot 
is  on  the  back  part  of  the  top  of  his  head ;  he  thinks  it 
is  smaller  than  it  really  is.  His  wife  should  tell  him, 
poor  man,  but  she  doesn't  like  to. 

Good  Farm  Journal  boys  do  not  smoke  cigarettes ; 
they  do  not  use  tobacco  at  all,  even  if  Pap  does.  Set 
a  good  example  for  Pap,  and  keep  your  mouths 
clean  and  breath  pure,  boys. 

250 


THE  FARM  JOURNAL  SPIRIT 

Think  about  the  horses  when  harrowing.  It  is 
hard  work  for  them,  as  well  as  for  you.  Let  them 
stop  often,  especially  when  they  are  not  well  hard- 
ened to  business.  Oh,  my,  how  tired  I  used  to  get ! 

Don't  speculate.  Calculate,  regulate,  hesitate, 
migrate  if  you  think  you  must ;  but  never  speculate. 

Many  a  man  would  be  better  off  if  he  had  taken 
the  advice  of  his  wife  instead  of  consulting  an  at- 
torney. But  the  average  man  won't  believe  this. 

A  world  of  comfort  lies  in  the  one  sweet  word 
"  wife." 

The  Farm  Journal  is  a  reminder  of  things  that 
want  doing  next. 

Just  as  likely  as  not  your  wife's  kitchen  knives 
are  as  dull  as  grubbing  hoes. 

The  first  day's  ploughing  always  makes  our  legs 
ache.  And  yours,  too? 

Have  you  trouble?  Then  please  accept  our 
kindly  sympathy;  we  wish,  indeed,  that  we  could 
help  you. 

Give  the  old  people  a  chance. 

Spend  your  money  for  insurance  instead  of  to- 
bacco. Then  if  anything  burns  up  there  will  be 
something  left  besides  ashes  and  regrets. 

A  pet  runt  of  a  pig,  raised  by  Jim,  later  becomes 
the  old  man's  hog. 

Keep  your  word,  if  you  have  to  go  without  eat- 
ing. Don't  break  your  appointment,  if  you  have  to 
start  without  a  shirt. 

We  do  not  publish  the  Farm  Journal  for  the  money 
there  is  in  it,  but  for  the  good  we  can  do.  It  is  a 
fact,  though  some  may  doubt  it.  To  live  and  toil  for 
money  gains  alone  is  unprofitable  and  debasing. 

A  sour-tempered  Christian  is  a  lamp  with  a 
smoked  chimney. 

251 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Some  men  who  love  their  wives  seem  really 
afraid  they  will  find  it  out. 

The  poorest  kinds  of  fun  that  we  know  of  are  the 
jokes  about  turkeys  just  before  Thanksgiving  and 
Christmas.  Many  papers  indulge  in  such  insipidity, 
and,  we  might  say,  brutality.  Isn't  it  enough  to 
murder  the  poor  birds  without  having  a  lot  of  stale 
fun  over  the  matter? 

God's  love  for  poor  sinners  is  very  wonderful ; 
but  God's  patience  with  ill-natured  saints  is  a 
deep  mystery. 

Don't  let  your  wife  eat  things  to  keep  them  from 
going  to  waste — eat  them  yourself.  We  do  not 
always  do  that  way ;  but  do  as  we  say,  not  as  we  do. 

Gentleness  does  more  than  violence;  the  gentle 
calf  sucks  all  the  cows. 

Why  do  you  like  the  Farm  Journal?  Perhaps  be- 
cause the  Farm  Journal  likes  you.  At  any  rate,  we  do 
like  you,  and  are  proud  of  the  friendship  of  so  many 
of  Our  Folks. 

Even  a  nice,  refined  girl  may  have  a  rough  chap 
on  her  hands. 

No  picnic  is  a  success  to  that  woman  who  doesn't 
get  a  piece  of  her  own  cake. 

Take  comfort  in  this:  no  wise  man  ever  lived 
who  did  not  at  times  make  a  fool  of  himself. 

Dies  hard — the  ossified  man. 

A  fellow  doesn't  like  to  take  a  girl  out  for  a  boat 
ride  and  then  have  her  throw  him  over. 

Let  the  dull  boy  study  law ;  keep  brighty  on 
the  farm. 

Young  fellow,  don't  be  afraid ;  if  you  love  her, 
tell  her  so. 

Of  course,  the  man  with  no  legs  is  helped  along 
by  a  legacy. 

252 


THE  FARM  JOURNAL  SPIRIT 

Out  West,  where  they  have  hurricanes,  it's  not 
always  easy  to  keep  a  hotel. 

Sometimes  folks  think  the  hired  man  has  no 
rights  that  any  one  is  bound  to  respect.  He  is 
"  only  the  hired  man."  But  after  all,  he  is  human. 
And  every  human  being  appreciates  consideration 
and  right  treatment. 

Tut,  tut,  your  fears  are  phantoms ! 

Goodness,  gracious!  Just  look  at  your  wife's 
scissors  and  see  how  dull  they  are! 

That  little  man  who  does  not  like  to  eat  crusts 
has  a  reason  for  it — his  teeth  are  not  working  right ; 
they  are  sore.  So  don't  scold  if  he  should  hide  a 
few  under  the  edge  of  his  plate.  A  Farm  Journal 
boy  should  not  be  made  to  eat  crusts  if  they  hurt  him. 

Don't  let  the  women  folks  work  themselves  to  death. 

If  the  daughter  likes  to  dance,  let  her  waltz 
around  the  house  with  a  broom. 

Have  a  hobby,  but  don't  ride  it  too  much,  lest 
you  grow  bow-legged. 

Speak  little;  speak  truth;  spend  little;  pay  cash. 

To  keep  from  stuttering — don't  talk. 

A  secret  is  usually  too  great  a  load  for  a  frail, 
weak  woman  to  stagger  under.  That's  what! 

Some  girls  would  like  to  wipe  the  dishes  out 
of  existence. 

Even  the  man  who  is  truthful  in  the  daytime  may 
lie  awake  at  night. 

When  you  give  your  wife  some  money  don't  ask 
her  what  she  did  with  the  last  quarter  you  gave  her ; 
but,  if  she  is  a  sensible  woman,  give  her  the  purse 
and  let  her  take  all  she  wants.  The  Farm  Journal 
says  so. 

Poor  fellow,  he  let  his  Farm  Journal  stop !  What 
will  become  of  him? 

253 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Don't  be  a  ten-hour  man  with  a  fourteen-hour 
wife. 

You  like  it,  the  Farm  Journal,  we  know  you  do ;  do 
you  know  why?  Let  us  see  if  we  can  guess:  For 
its  brevity ;  its  ginger ;  its  gumption ;  its  pithy,  season- 
able things  put  in  and  the  long-winded  things  left 
out ;  its  appreciation  of  fun ;  its  honor  bright ;  its  high 
aims;  its  steady  purpose;  its  freedom  from  jealousy 
of  its  competitors;  its  clean  pages;  its  plainness  of 
speech;  its  love  of  justice,  of  truth  and  righteous- 
ness ;  its  zeal  for  its  friends ;  its  hatred  of  the  devil 
and  all  his  works;  its  sympathy  for  the  poor  and 
oppressed;  its  antagonism  to  bloated  greed  in  high 
places;  its  contempt  for  bosses;  its  sturdy,  unflinch- 
ing Americanism ;  its  kindliness ;  its  hopefulness ;  its 
aspirations  and  strivings  for  better  things  for  its 
readers  and  for  all  the  world;  its  ability  to  keep 
along  with  the  procession  without  trampling  upon 
fellow  travellers.  These  things  tell  the  story  of  your 
liking  and  love  for  the  Farm  Journal  and  lead  you  to 
go  miles  out  of  your  way,  through  storm  and  mud, 
to  tell  your  neighbors  about  it.  Have  we  guessed 
why  you  like  the  little  paper?  And  do  we  not 
rightly  guess  that  you  are  going  to  show  your  love 
for  it  by  rallying  to  its  support,  by  getting  such  a 
rousing  club  that  all  the  natives  will  be  startled  and 
we  will  be  more  than  astonished? 

A  man  doesn't  like  the  woman  who  shows  she 
wants  to  marry  him,  and  he  doesn't  like  the  woman 
who  shows  she  doesn't.  So  what's  a  girl  to  do? 

If  all  the  money  now  being  spent  in  search  of  the 
North  Pole  could  be  invested  in  bean  poles,  the  coun- 
try would  be  just  so  much  better  off. 

When  we  speak  of  Our  Folks  whom  do  you  sup- 
pose we  mean?  Why,  country  folks,  the  sun- 

254 


THE  FARM  JOURNAL  SPIRIT 

browned,  honest-hearted,  strong-armed,  steady- 
gaited  yeomen  of  the  land;  the  villagers,  the  rural 
mechanics,  all  the  women  folks,  and  the  boys,  and 
the  girls,  who  live  out  there,  everywhere,  in  all  the 
states,  in  every  rural  town,  on  every  hillside  and  in 
every  valley,  on  every  farm  and  in  every  village 
home.  These  be  Our  Folks,  our  Farm  Journal  folks, 
whom  we  love,  and  who  love  us. 

He  told  his  son  to  milk  the  cows,  feed  the  horses, 
slop  the  pigs,  hunt  the  eggs,  feed  the  calves,  catch 
the  colt  and  put  him  in  the  stable,  cut  some  wood, 
split  up  some  kindlings  for  morning,  stir  the  cream, 
put  fresh  water  in  the  creamery  after  supper,  and  be 
sure  to  study  his  lessons  before  he  went  to  bed. 
Then  he  went  to  the  farmers'  club  to  discuss  the 
question :  "  How  to  Keep  Boys  on  the  Farm." 

We  never  cease  striving  to  make  the  Farm  Journal 
better  and  better,  often  lying  awake  at  night  when 
you  are  sound  asleep,  studying  how  we  can  make 
the  little  paper  more  interesting  and  more  useful  to 
you.  Why  not  help  us  a  little?  If  you  know  any 
good  thing  that  will  benefit  others,  why  not  tell  us 
of  it?  We  cannot,  of  course,  print  all  that  is  sent  in, 
but  we  do  like  to  get  practical  points  from  practical 
people,  which  we  print  as  fast  as  we  can  find  room 
for  them.  Remember  to  send  us  cream;  keep  the 
skim-milk  for  those  who  do  not  know  the  difference. 

More  women's  hearts  have  broken  over  the  man 
they  got  than  the  man  they  did  not  get. 

Let  us  be  neighborly.  Help  each  other.  One  of 
your  neighbors  is  a  young  farmer,  a  reasonably  good 
kind  of  a  fellow.  Just  starting  up  and  having  to 
depend  on  his  own  resources  make  it  hard  for  him. 
Lend  him  a  helping  hand.  Offer  to  loan  him  some 
of  the  farm  implements  he  can  ill  afford  to  buy.  He 

255 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

will  not  forget  your  kindness  and  may  be  able  to 
return  it  in  an  unexpected  manner. 

It's  a  good  thing  to  know  ideas ;  and  it's  a  good 
idea  to  know  things. 

A  man  who  will  shake  a  woman's  hand  hard 
enough  almost  to  crush  it  is  a  bear. 

A  sign  of  spring:  when  you  can  get  close  enough 
to  a  frog  to  poke  him  with  a  stick. 


256 


ENTRANCE  TO  FARM  JOURNAL  BUILDING,  WEST  WASHINGTON 

SQUARE 


CHAPTER  XIX 


IT  appears  to  be  the  opinion  of  many  observers  that 
the  Farm  Journal  has  been  successful  and  I,  myself, 
cannot  altogether  resist  the  belief  that,  at  least,  it 
has  not  been  a  failure.  While,  from  the  beginning 
in  1877,  I  did  not  expect  to  fail,  I  did  not  realize  that 
I  should  ever  accomplish  all  that  I  have  accom- 
plished in  placing  the  enterprise  upon  the  solid 
foundation  of  public  estimation  on  which  it  now 
rests.  As  I  have  heretofore  stated,  I  had  no  experi- 
ence as  an  editor;  I  had  not  been  a  practised  writer, 
nor  had  I  any  idea  that  my  future  success  might  lie 
in  that  direction.  Yet  the  fact  is  that  I  started  the 
paper  with  one  subscriber  and,  under  my  editor- 
ship, after  the  close  of  forty  years,  I  was  addressing 
through  the  columns  of  the  Farm  Journal  over  one 
million  subscribers  and  probably  over  four  million 
readers.  I  might,  therefore,  make  inquiry  for  the 
benefit  of  others  as  to  how  it  all  happened,  naming 
some  of  the  stepping-stones  that  led  to  the 
results  achieved. 

I  may  first  mention  as  a  stepping-stone  to  success 
the  fact  that  all  my  ancestors  for  many  generations 
were  farmers  and  were  under  compulsion  to  be 
economical.  They  thus  learned  the  value  of  money, 
and  I  believe  that  I  inherited  from  them  a  tendency 
to  the  thrift  habit.  As  a  child  I  never  had  money  to 
spend,  and  during  boyhood  I  had  very  little.  When 
the  agricultural  exhibition  would  be  held  at  Spring- 
town  once  a  year,  I  was  given  a  quarter  to  go.  When 
I  became  old  enough,  I  drilled  in  wheat  for  the 
17  257 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

neighbors  and  built  wire  fences  for  them,  thus  earn- 
ing a  little  money.  I  was  paid  no  salary  for  my  labor  on 
the  farm,  but  was  boarded  and  clothed  for  the  work  I 
did.  Our  food  was  plain  and  apparel  inexpensive. 

I  taught  school  for  two  winters  at  a  salary  of 
thirty  dollars  a  month.  Most  of  that  was  taken  for 
board.  When  I  was  twenty-two  my  father  loaned 
me  five  hundred  dollars,  as  I  have  heretofore  stated, 
to  buy  out  a  county  paper  at  Norristown  in  associa- 
tion with  my  sister's  husband,  Howard  M.  Jenkins. 
As  business  manager  I  helped  publish  the  Republican 
for  two  years.  We  had  no  money  to  waste  in  that 
enterprise.  After  disposing  of  my  interest  to  my 
partner,  I  came  to  Philadelphia  and  opened  an  ad- 
vertising agency  which  I  conducted  for  two  years ; 
then  I  sold  out  and  went  to  Wilmington,  Delaware. 
I  was  ten  years  at  Wilmington  as  business  manager 
of  the  Daily  Commercial  and  gained  much  experience 
in  the  advertising  and  publishing  business.  Those 
years  were  strenuous  ones.  My  inheritance,  my 
work  on  the  farm,  my  school  teaching,  and  my  busi- 
ness enterprises  were  all  stepping-stones  to 
what  followed. 

At  the  end  of  the  ten  years  on  the  Daily  Com- 
mercial I  returned  to  Philadelphia  and  started  the 
Farm  Journal.  Then,  for  at  least  eight  years,  it  was 
a  struggle  to  keep  going. 

I  can  conceive  of  no  better  experience  than  that  I 
have  presented  to  fit  me  for  successfully  publishing 
an  agricultural  paper.  Brought  up  on  a  farm  and 
living  among  farmers  all  through  my  minority,  and 
mingling  with  them  freely  while  business  manager 
of  the  Norristown  and  Wilmington  papers,  I  had 
come  to  have  a  fellow-feeling  for  them.  Moreover, 
I  knew  them  well,  their  angles  of  thought,  their  likes 
and  dislikes,  their  fears  and  hopes;  and  I  most  sin- 

258 


STEPPING-STONES  TO  SUCCESS 

cerely  and  ardently  felt  as  a  friend  to  them.  The 
keynote  of  my  efforts  in  their  behalf  was  service,  not 
exploitation ;  so  when  I  came  to  write  to  and  for 
them,  I  knew  pretty  well  what  to  say  and  how  to 
say  it.  My  cordial  feeling  towards  country  people 
was  well  grounded  also  in  this,  that  my  ancestors 
on  both  sides  had  been  tillers  of  the  soil  for  two 
hundred  years  and  probably  for  a  much  longer  time. 
Naturally,  when  I  came  to  edit  -the  Farm  Journal, 
the  farmers  soon  learned  to  recognize  me  as  one  of 
themselves,  speaking  their  language,  and  being,  in- 
deed, their  advocate  and  friend.  They  could  see  that 
what  I  said  was  not  put  on  for  a  selfish  purpose,  but 
came  straight  from  the  heart.  If  I  had  not  felt  as  I 
did,  no  disguise  or  pretense  that  I  could  have  as- 
sumed would  have  answered  the  purpose.  There 
must  have  been  genuine  respect  and  esteem  and  a 
desire  to  serve  on  my  part ;  or  no  headway  could 
have  been  made  against  their  conservatism  and  the 
natural  suspicions  they  felt  towards  those  who  might 
be  trying  to  gain  their  confidence  for  sinister  pur- 
poses. Of  all  the  causes  of  success  such  as  I  at- 
tained, this  was  a  vital  one.  Without  it  most  other 
obstacles  that  have  been  encountered  on  the  way 
might  not  have  been  overcome. 

The  exclusion  of  coarse  jokes  from  the  paper 
and  of  every  word  and  thought  that  would  offend  a 
refined  person,  the  advocacy  of  good  habits  for  boys 
and  girls,  of  a  considerate  attitude  towards  hired 
help,  and  of  humane  treatment  of  animals,  and  an 
insistent  demand  that  farmers  and  their  families  be 
given  seats  at  the  first  table  and  be  helped  to  the 
good  things  that  abound — these  were  surely  step- 
ping-stones to  success  in  making  a  farm  paper. 

Another  stepping-stone  was  a  certain  inherent 
feeling  that  somehow  I  would  come  out  all  right  in 

259 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

the  end.  I  was  optimistic.  I  was  so  optimistic  that 
I  never  took  failure  into  account,  but  forged  ahead 
with  the  utmost  confidence  of  ultimate  victory. 
Looking  back  over  forty  years  as  editor  and  beyond 
to  my  boyhood  days  on  the  Upper  Dublin  farm,  I 
cannot  recall  that  I  ever  felt  discouraged  even  when 
my  affairs  were  at  their  lowest  ebb.  I  had  un- 
bounded faith  in  a  good  Providence  and  unbounded 
belief  that,  if  I  would  do  my  part  as  best  I  could,  if 
I  would  "  Mind  the  Light  Within,"  keep  all  my 
promises,  and  take  care  of  my  health  by  moderation 
in  all  things,  all  would  come  out  right  in  the  end. 

Another  stepping-stone  was  my  happy  family 
life,  centering  in  a  most  amiable,  gracious  and  help- 
ful wife  and  three  children  all  modelled  after  their 
mother,  but  having  traits  of  their  father  mixed  in 
here  and  there.  Facing  such  responsibility  could  I 
have  turned  and  run  ?  NO ! 

No  stepping-stone  made  surer  footing  than  that 
of  guaranteeing  the  honesty  of  every  advertiser  who 
was  admitted  into  the  paper,  of  reimbursing  every 
subscriber  who  should  happen  to  be  cheated  in  his 
dealings  with  anyone  represented  in  the  advertising 
columns,  and  making  good  the  guarantee  to  my  last 
dollar.  This  required  me  to  make  close  scrutiny  of 
all  advertisements  that  applied  for  admission ;  and 
it  greatly  increased  the  value  to  the  advertiser  of  a 
card  in  the  paper.  As  a  result,  I  realized  the  advan- 
tage of  higher  advertising  rates.  It  worked  in  this 
way:  farmers  were  sometimes  suspicious  of  any 
advertisement  in  other  papers  unless  it  also  should 
be  found  in  the  Farm  Journal.  The  guarantee  the 
Farm  Journal  made  in  1880  has  been  firmly  adhered 
to  ever  since.  Other  papers  fell  into  line,  but  not 
until  many  years  after  the  Farm  Journal  led  the  way. 
Few,  if  any,  other  than  farm  papers  ever  made  such 

260 


MY  WIFE 


STEPPING-STONES  TO  SUCCESS 

an  offer.  It  is  true  in  every  branch  of  human  ac- 
tivity that  we  ought  to  learn  to  plow  a  straight  fur- 
row, clear  cut  to  the  end.  Crookedness  of  every 
kind  should  be  eliminated  from  human  conduct,  and 
this  is  what  the  Farm  Journal  has  always  stood  for. 

Another  stepping-stone  to  success  was  the  selec- 
tion of  editorial  associates  who  were  imbued  with  the 
Farm  Journal  spirit  of  service  in  all  these  matters, 
who  had  a  practical  knowledge  of  things  the  Farm 
Journal  was  teaching,  and  who  would  stop  when 
they  had  said  what  they  had  to  say. 

I  appear  to  have  begun  life  with  a  faculty  of 
firmness  (or  was  it  stubbornness?),  rather  highly 
developed,  so  that  when  I  decided  upon  a  measure  I 
was  not  easily  shaken  from  my  purpose.  On  com- 
ing from  my  Wilmington  enterprise  to  start  the 
Farm  Journal,  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  I  never 
would,  personally,  ask  anyone  to  advertise,  nor  send 
anyone  to  solicit  such  favors.  I  never  departed  from 
this  in  the  slightest  degree ;  and  in  the  course  of  time 
advertisers  came  of  their  free  will,  because  the  cir- 
culation and  my  guarantee  warranted  their  coming. 
I  fixed  a  price  per  line  and  never  departed  an  iota 
therefrom.  It  took  some  time  to  convince  some  of 
the  advertising  agencies  that  they  could  not  get  in 
at  cut  rates,  but  they  did  learn.  Then  there  was  no 
further  trouble  in  that  direction.  At  that  time  nearly 
all  advertisers  hoped  to  obtain  free  puffs,  along  with 
their  advertisements,  but  all  hoped  in  vain.  I  could 
not  clog  my  pages  with  free  notices  which  took 
room  belonging  to  genuine  reading  matter. 

Another  lesson  had  to  be  learned  by  my  adver- 
tising patrons,  that  no  distinction  in  rates  was  al- 
lowed on  large,  display  advertisements  over  small 
ones,  and  that  a  yearly  advertisement  a  column  long 
must  be  paid  for  at  the  same  rate  per  line  per  month 

261 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

as  a  two-line  card  for  one  month.  Those  taking  a 
whole  page  must  pay  exactly  the  same  rate  per  line 
as  those  who  took  two  lines.  It  was  my  idea  of  fair 
play  to  give  the  little  fellows  a  chance.  The  above 
were  safe  stepping-stones  and  helped  make  my 
going  easy. 

Early  in  my  campaign  I  learned  the  wisdom  of 
getting  rid  of  yearly  subscriptions,  so  I  established 
a  two-year  rate.  After  Our  Folks  became  accus- 
tomed to  this,  I  extended  the  time  to  three  years,  and 
finally  to  five ;  and  had  I  continued  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  subscription  department  another  dec- 
ade, I  would  have  adopted  as  far  as  possible 
a  ten-year  rate  with  money  returned  for  unex- 
pired  subscriptions  to  all  dissatisfied  subscribers  at 
any  period  they  desired.  Nothing  could  be  fairer 
than  this — money  back  if  people  did  not  like  the 
paper  and  wished  to  receive  it  no  longer.  Through 
the  economy  of  this  system,  the  paper  could  be  fur- 
nished at  a  very  much  lower  rate.  My  experience 
with  five-year  subscriptions  was  that  very  few  sub- 
scribers ever  asked  to  have  their  money  back.  Very 
few  subscriptions  were  cancelled.  Give  people  a 
good  paper  and  why  should  they  want  to  stop  it? 

Another  stepping-stone  was  the  policy  of  fur- 
nishing information  adapted  to  each  season.  Thus 
the  April  number  would  be  full  of  reminders  adapted 
to  that  month.  This  made  the  paper  a  calendar  of 
operations  that  needed  to  be  done  on  every  farm 
and  in  every  home.  The  paper  was  a  reminder  with 
instructions  for  work  to  be  done  just  at  the  right 
time.  I  saw  the  uselessness  of  treating  subjects  out 
of  their  proper  season ;  in  fact,  I  thought  it  almost  a 
sheer  waste.  An  item  in  August  telling  how  to  fill 
icehouses,  or  one  in  December  telling  how  to  har- 
vest the  wheat  crop,  was  of  little  value  to  the  re- 

262 


THE  SUBSCRIPTION  DEPARTMENT  OF  THE  FARM  JOURNAL 


STEPPING-STONES  TO  SUCCESS 

cipient  of  the  paper  containing  it.  "  In  season  only  " 
was  the  long-time  motto  of  the  Farm  Journal. 

Above  are  some  of  the  solid  and  safe  stepping- 
stones  which  I  utilized  as  editor  of  the  Farm  Journal 
in  its  progress  from  one  subscriber  in  1877  to  over 
one  million  subscribers  at  the  end  of  forty  years. 

I  will  close  this  chapter  with  my  editorial  plan, 
which  stood  for  many  years  and  still  stands  at  the 
head  of  the  household  page : 

"  We  publish  the  Farm  Journal  for  Our  Folks 
comprising  all  those  into  whose  homes  the  paper 
goes,  father,  mother,  son,  daughter — all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  household,  dwellers  on  farms  and  in  vil- 
lages throughout  the  land.  Our  first  care  is  that  its 
pages  be  honest  and  pure,  and  full  of  sunshine  and 
hope  to  those  who  read  it,  and  be  a  source  of  infor- 
mation, profit,  comfort  and  encouragement  to  all." 


263 


CHAPTER  XX 

OUR  REMOVAL  TO  HISTORIC 
GERMANTOWN 

IT  was  in  the  spring  of  1877  tnat  we  came  back 
from  Wilmington  to  Philadelphia  and  set  up  house- 
keeping in  the  city  of  our  love.  Yearning  for  more 
open  space  to  live  and  breathe  in,  we  sought  within 
two  years  a  new  home  in  some  suburb.  Anna  and 
I,  one  summer  afternoon,  took  a  train  for  Jenkin- 
town  and  wandered  around  for  two  hours  in  search 
of  a  house.  Not  being  successful  in  finding  one,  we 
wended  our  way  over  to  Germantown.  Calling 
upon  an  agent  there,  we  were  shown  a  cozy  house 
that  was  for  rent,  though  it  was  tenanted.  Both 
agent  and  tenant  assured  us  most  positively  that  the 
house  would  be  vacated  by  an  early  date.  Accepting 
the  double  assurance  for  a  truth,  we  moved  all  our 
furniture  two  days  after  the  date  the  house  was 
promised  to  us ;  but  we  found  on  our  arrival,  and  to 
our  dismay,  that  the  house  was  still  occupied,  and 
that  therefore  there  was  no  room  inside  for  our  fur- 
niture. We  might  put  it  on  the  side  porch,  as,  in- 
deed, we  did.  It  remained  there  in  waiting  for  a 
week  until  we  despaired  of  ever  getting  possession. 
So  we  took  another  house  nearby,  which  was  really 
more  commodious  and  suitable  than  the  one  we 
tried  in  vain  to  rent. 

After  we  got  well  settled  here,  I  bought  a  second- 
hand, sweet-toned  Chickering  piano  for  one  hun- 
dred and  ninety  dollars,  the  first  one  I  had  owned. 
It  was  a  Christmas  surprise  for  the  children.  It  was 
delivered  several  days  in  advance,  placed  in  the  par- 

264 


OUR  REMOVAL  TO  HISTORIC  GERMANTOWN 

lor  and  shut  up  there  so  it  would  not  be  discovered. 
While  the  family  was  at  supper  Aunt  Julia  slipped 
off  into  the  parlor  and  began  to  play,  very  much  to 
the  surprise,  if  not  bewilderment,  of  the  children, 
who  rushed  hurriedly  into  the  parlor  to  see  what  it 
was  all  about.  It  was  indeed  a  surprise.  This  house 
unfortunately  had  a  basement  kitchen,  which  made 
it  hard  for  Anna,  and  which  was  the  principal  draw- 
back. Domestic  help  does  not  favor  basement  kitchens. 
It  was  a  privilege  to  live  in  old  Germantown, 
which  we  all  appreciated  to  the  fullest  extent.  The 
first  house  we  lived  in  was  on  a  spot  where  hard 
fighting  took  place  in  the  famous  battle  of  German- 
town  in  1777.  A  few  blocks  away  stood  a  cedar 
fence  riddled  with  bullets,  to  which  we  often  took 
our  visitors.  The  fence  has  recently  been  taken 
down  and  removed  to  the  home  of  the  Site  and 
Relic  Society  in  Vernon  Park,  where  it  can  be  viewed 
with  many  other  relics.  Further  up  Main  Street 
was  the  Chew  house,  or  Cliveden,  and  nearby  the 
spot  where  Washington  stood  with  a  telescope  in 
hand  directing  the  attack  of  his  forces  against  a 
regiment  of  British,  which  had  taken  possession  of 
the  Chew  mansion.  The  granite  block  on  which  he  stood 
is  still  shown,  and  the  telescope  is  in  the  German- 
town  Academy.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  down  Main 
Street  still  stands  the  Morris  house  which  General 
Howe  occupied  a  short  time  after  the  battle  of  Ger- 
mantown. It  was  even  more  illustriously  occupied 
by  Washington  during  the  yellow  fever  epidemic  of 
1793,  when  the  capital  was  still  in  Philadelphia. 
Washington  repaired  thither  again  in  the  sultry  sum- 
mer of  1794.  This  house  in  outward  appearance  is 
as  it  stood  when  our  first  President  occupied  it. 
Jefferson  and  Monroe  also  came  to  Germantown  in 
1793  to  get  away  from  the  epidemic;  in  fact,  Ger- 

265 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

mantown  was  crowded  so  that  Jefferson,  who  had 
come  out,  wrote  to  Madison  that  a  house  or  room 
could  hardly  be  rented  at  any  price. 

On  Main  Street,  a  short  distance  below  the 
Morris  house,  stands  the  Wister  mansion,  built  in 
1774.  The  British  General  Agnew,  who  was  mor- 
tally wounded  in  the  battle,  was  carried  to  this 
house,  where  he  died.  The  floor  still  shows  stains  of 
the  blood  from  the  general's  wounds.  He  was  shot 
while  going  up  Main  Street  past  a  small  Mennonite 
church,  which  is  still  standing.  As  he  was  going  by 
that  point  some  American  soldiers  or  citizens, 
secreted  behind  the  wall,  rose  up  and  shot  the  general. 

A  short  mile  further  down  Main  Street  is  Sten- 
ton.  This  was  used  as  the  headquarters  of  the 
British  before  and  during  the  battle.  It  was  also 
occupied  by  Washington  on  the  evening  of  August 
twenty-third,  1777,  when  he  and  his  army  were  on 
their  way,  accompanied  by  the  nineteen-year-old 
Lafayette,  to  fight  the  battle  of  Brandywine.  Sten- 
ton  was  erected  by  James  Logan,  Secretary  to 
William  Penn,  in  the  year  1727. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  mansions  is  Wyck, 
a  white  stone  mansion  on  Main  Street  and  Walnut 
Lane,  a  portion  of  which  is  said  to  be  the  oldest 
dwelling  still  standing  in  Germantown.  Wyck  was 
used  as  a  hospital  during  and  after  the  battle.  A 
reception  was  given  there  to  General  Lafayette  dur- 
ing his  visit  to  this  country  in  1825  on  his  way  back 
from  a  similar  function  in  the  Chew  house. 

My  father,  when  he  brought  produce  to  deliver  to 
Germantown  housewives,  a  distance  of  ten  miles 
from  his  Upper  Dublin  farm,  found  good  customers 
in  the  owners  of  Wyck.  He  never  failed  to  call  on 
the  Misses  Haines  to  supply  them  with  butter,  cot- 

266 


THE  FRONT  DOOR  OP  OUR  CITY  HOME 


OUR  REMOVAL  TO  HISTORIC  GERMANTOWN 

tage  cheese,  eggs,  poultry  and  lamb,  or  whatever 
else  was  in  season. 

The  Johnson  house  stood  in  the  thickest  of  the 
battle.  A  rifle  ball  passed  through  the  house  and 
bored  a  hole  through  the  front  door  which  still  may 
be  seen.  The  house  now  belongs  to  the  Woman's 
Club  of  Germantown.  A  short  distance  in  the  rear 
of  this  house  stood  the  fence  mentioned  above,  filled 
with  bullet  holes  on  that  early  foggy  morning  in 
October,  1777,  when  Washington  came  down  from 
Whitemarsh  and  fell  upon  the  British  outposts.  The 
facts  here  given  are  from  the  "  Guide  Book  of  His- 
toric Germantown  "  prepared  for  the  Site  and  Relic 
Society  in  1902  by  Charles  F.  Jenkins,  my  successor 
as  editor  of  the  Farm  Journal. 

I  have  mentioned  only  a  few  of  the  historic 
places  of  the  town.  Strangers  coming  to  Philadel- 
phia can  find  no  more  interesting  place  to  visit  than 
Germantown ;  in  truth,  I  know  of  no  suburban  place 
anywhere  possessing  so  much  historic  interest  as 
this  old  town. 

After  we  left  Germantown  for  our  summer  home 
at  Three  Tuns,  Upper  Dublin,  we  gave  up  our  per- 
manent residence  there,  but  spent  several  winters  in 
furnished  houses  until  the  bursting  buds,  the  robins 
and  bluebirds  would  call  us  back  to  North  View. 
Years  later  we  took  up  our  winter  quarters  in  fur- 
nished houses  in  West  Philadelphia  because  that 
was  more  convenient  to  business  than  Germantown. 
In  1898  I  purchased  a  home  on  Locust  Street.  Seven 
years  later  I  sold  it  and  built  on  the  same  street  a 
house  where  we  now  live  all  the  year  except  a  few 
months  each  summer  spent  in  our  cottage  in  the  Pocono 
mountains.  This  cottage  is  appropriately  called 
"  Sunset,"  because  of  our  clear  view  of  that 
declining  orb. 

267 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Soon  after  we  removed  to  Germantown  the  two 
older  children  were  sent  to  public  school,  but  with 
little  satisfaction  to  them  or  to  their  parents.  As 
they  were  not  thriving  physically  and  were  not 
happy  mentally,  they  were  withdrawn  and  entered 
as  pupils  in  a  school  kept  by  Mrs.  Elizabeth  L. 
Head.  We  soon  found  that  it  was  for  the  better. 

Mrs.  Head  was  a  teacher  of  commanding  charm 
and  personality,  a  source  of  intellectual  and  spiritual 
inspiration  to  her  scholars.  It  was  her  object  not  to 
cram  her  pupils  with  raw  facts  from  school  text- 
books, but  rather  to  teach  them  how  to  study,  so 
that  after  they  should  leave  school  their  education 
would  not  come  to  an  end.  She  interested  her 
pupils  in  the  best  literature  and  the  best  dramas, 
and  in  ancient  and  modern  history  and  in  mythology. 
Careful  instruction  was  given  in  penmanship,  in 
drawing,  and  in  music.  Much  attention  was  given 
to  composition  and  to  reading  aloud  by  her  classes. 
Elocution  was  taught.  Great  care  was  taken  to 
have  the  class-rooms  well  ventilated,  and  recesses 
were  frequently  given  for  exercise  in  the  gymnasium, 
or  a  rest  for  those  who  needed  it.  By  Mrs.  Head's 
wise  and  modern  methods  her  pupils  were  prepared 
for  college,  and  were  gladly  received  at  Bryn  Mawr, 
Wellesley  and  Cornell.  Mrs.  Head's  inspiring  and 
benign  influence  will  never  be  lost  to  the  pupils 
who  were  favored  to  come  under  it  during  the  for- 
mative period  of  their  minds.  It  was  considered  a 
great  privilege  by  us  to  have  such  a  school  nearby. 


268 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 

IT  was  in  April,  1888,  that  we  moved  from  our 
rented  winter  home  in  Germantown  to  the  village  of 
Three  Tuns,  Upper  Dublin,  Montgomery  county, 
three  weeks  after  the  long-to-be-remembered  bliz- 
zard, than  which  none  more  severe  has  been  seen 
since  nor  had  been  for  many  years  before.  Our  new 
house,  which  was  to  become  our  happy  summer 
home  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century,  was 
ready  to  receive  us — as  nearly  ready  as  new  houses 
usually  are.  I  was  then  in  my  forty-eighth  year, 
enjoying  the  excellent  health  which  has  continued  ever 
since.  I  had  left  my  parents'  home  on  the  old  boy- 
hood farm  in  Upper  Dublin  nearby  at  the  age  of 
twenty-two,  and  now,  twenty-six  years  later,  I  was 
back  again  in  Upper  Dublin.  I  had  gone  away  an 
unmarried  man ;  I  now  returned  with  my  wife  Anna 
and  our  three  children,  Elizabeth,  Emily  and 
Gertrude.  We  rejoiced  in  the  fact  that  we  had  never 
lost  a  child  by  death. 

Our  new  home  had  been  built  the  year  before, 
right  on  the  edge  of  the  village  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  the  spot  where  I  went  to  school ;  but  the 
little,  old,  frame  temple  of  learning  had  given  place 
to  a  larger  one  of  stone.  Diagonally  across  the  road 
stood  the  old  Three  Tuns  Tavern  with  a  painting 
of  three  hogsheads  on  the  sign ;  and  directly  oppo- 
site, a  little  nearer  to  us  and  still  doing  business, 
stood  the  store  on  the  second  floor  of  which  was  the 
library  room  in  which  I  used  to  browse  away  days 
that  were  too  rainy  or  snowy  for  work  on  the  farm. 

269 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

But  the  books  had  been  taken  away  to  the  railroad 
village  of  Ambler,  two  and  one-half  miles  distant, 
and  in  the  course  of  time  had  met  destruction  by 
fire.  Jake  Lenhart's  blacksmith  and  wheelwright 
shops  were  exactly  opposite  our  house,  the  former 
still  the  seat  of  a  thriving  business.  Jake  was  not 
there ;  his  loud  and  merry  laugh  no  longer  smote  the 
ears  of  the  villagers,  rattled  the  windows  in  nearby 
dwellings,  and  inspired  all  the  cocks  in  the  neigh- 
borhood to  crow  and  do  their  best;  but  his  son 
George  still  made  the  old  anvil  ring  under  his  ham- 
mer all  day  long.  The  Lenharts,  father  and  son, 
were  kindly  men,  good  citizens  and  sincere  Demo- 
crats. George  is  still  living. 

There  were  four  private  residences  within  an 
eighth  of  a  mile.  My  brother  James  and  his  nine 
children — for  his  lamented  wife  Mary  had  passed 
away  some  months  before — occupied  part  of  the  old 
farm  to  which  the  family  came  in  1849,  and  brother 
Albert  and  his  wife  Phebe,  with  three  children, 
occupied  the  other  portion.  Both  were  carrying  on 
farming  by  intensive  culture  usual  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. Thus  I  have  sized  up  the  ancient  village,  as 
it  stood  in  that  snow-bound  country  on  the  April 
morning  of  1888,  when  I  was  getting  back  home 
after  an  absence  of  over  a  quarter  of  a  century,  ex- 
cept for  occasional  short  visits  to  my  parents. 

I  remember  well  how  deep  the  snow-drifts  were 
as  our  seven  heavily  laden  wagons  passed  up  the 
pike  through  the  toll-gate  where  travelers  had  been 
held  up  by  day  and  night  during  a  period  of  thirty-six 
years,  not  upon  a  demand  for  dimes  and  nickels, 
but  for  quarters,  ftps,  levies  and  cents,  which  in  the 
early  days  then  passed  current.  The  drifts  near  the 
toll-gate  were  as  high  as  the  top  of  our  market 
wagons  and  are  well  remembered.  When  we  arrived 

270 


BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 

at  North  View  our  relatives  and  friends  were 
there  to  greet  us  and  lend  a  hand — many  hands — 
staying  until  all  our  belongings  had  been  carried 
in  and  placed,  and  winding  up  with  a  hearty  dinner 
for  the  assembled  relatives  and  friends.  The  occa- 
sion had  a  similitude  to  the  return  of  the  prodigal 
son,  but  I  cannot  recall  that  we  had  veal  for  dinner. 
My  wife  remembers  that  Albert's  wife  contributed 
a  few  raisin  pies  and  that  father  Allen  had  sent  up 
from  the  city  a  large  box  of  fried  oysters. 

Of  the  wagons,  James  and  Albert  each  supplied 
one,  two  kind  neighbors  each  one,  and  one  was  my 
own  from  the  farm.  A  few  loads  of  furniture  had 
been  sent  up  the  day  before. 

From  Gertrude's  diary  I  read :  "  Papa  went  up 
at  12  o'clock  [note  that  I  reached  there  in  time  for 
dinner]  ;  we  arose  at  4.30  in  the  morning.  The  first 
wagon  reached  Germantown  from  the  farm  at  4.45 ; 
we  reached  North  View  at  n.  Emily  had  exami- 
nations at  school  and  did  not  get  home  until  six  in 
the  evening." 

On  a  page  near  to  this  may  be  seen  a  picture  of 
North  View,  our  new  home,  as  it  was  when  I  sold  it 
in  1915  and  moved  back  to  the  city,  not  because  we 
were  weary  of  country  life,  but  because  the  respon- 
sibility had  become  too  great,  since  I  had  taken  over 
many  other  responsibilities  by  that  time,  and  neither 
my  wife  nor  myself  could  longer  claim  youth  or  even 
middle  age  as  our  portion.  But  North  View 
surroundings  do  not  look  in  the  picture  as  they  were 
when  we  moved,  for  the  large  trees  were  not  there, 
not  yet  planted. 

The  spot  selected  for  our  house  was  the  centre 
of  a  five-acre  field  from  which,  the  summer  before, 
I  had  harvested  a  big  crop  of  timothy  hay.  Before 
April  came  to  an  end,  I  had  planted  out  many  trees 

271 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

those  surrounding  the  house  being  of  oak  of  various 
varieties  which,  when  set  out,  were  not  over  five  feet 
high,  with  a  caliper  of  trunk  not  over  an  inch.  At 
the  time  we  came  away,  these  trees  were  too  large 
to  span  with  both  arms.  The  soil  of  the  home  acres 
was  very  rich,  the  most  fertile  of  any  on  the  farm, 
so  that  the  trees  grew  rapidly,  and  as  they  were 
given  plenty  of  space,  they  soon  became  our  admira- 
tion and  pride. 

I  named  the  farm  for  my  mother's  family, 
Quinby,  and  "  Quinby  Farm  "  was  the  title  it  always 
went  by  while  I  owned  it.  The  next  purchaser  had 
another  name  for  it.  The  land  extended  southeast 
for  nearly  a  mile,  where  it  abutted  upon  the  farm  of 
my  brother  James.  Another  corner  touched  Albert's 
place.  A  long  lane  stretched  along  the  west  side,  a 
part  of  which  is  shown  in  the  picture  of  the  great 
oak,  and  extended  the  whole  length  of  our  land,  the 
very  same  lane  through  which,  as  a  boy  of  nine,  I 
helped  drive  our  herd  of  cows  from  our  Warwick  to 
our  Upper  Dublin  farm,  thirty-nine  years  before. 
The  lane  is  not  as  it  was,  for  then  it  was  a  mere 
pathway,  narrow,  but  wide  enough  for  wagons  to 
pass  over,  even  to  meet  if  both  vehicles  turned  out 
on  the  grass  at  the  sides.  The  line  of  Norway 
maples  seen  in  the  picture  I  planted  as  part  of  the 
adornment  of  my  newly  acquired  home  acres.  Those 
maples  were  so  small  for  a  year  or  two  after  plant- 
ing that  James's  children,  going  to  and  from  school, 
bent  them  down  and  straddled  over  them,  though  I 
cannot  recall  that  they  ever  did  so  on  the  days  when 
their  uncle  Wilmer  remained  home  from  his  daily  visits 
to  the  Farm  Journal  office. 

One-third  of  a  mile  down  the  lane,  past  the  great 
oak,  was  the  ancient  stone  farmhouse,  shown  also 
in  the  picture,  a  section  of  it  built  before  the  Revo- 

272 


BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 

lution,  and  for  a  few  nights,  occupied  by  some  raid- 
ing British  officers.  Close  by  the  front  door  in  the 
west  end  of  the  ancient  mansion  stood  the  old 
horseblock  from  which,  in  early  times,  the  folks 
mounted  their  steeds  for  rides  to  meeting,  to  the 
village  or  over  the  farm  to  view  the  crops. 

Nearby  was  the  old  stone  wagon  house,  built 
more  than  one  hundred  years  ago.  In  this  wagon 
house  was  a  well-equipped  shop  where  all  the  tools 
needed  were  stored,  including  a  grindstone,  shovels, 
spades,  axes,  hoes,  mauls  and  wedges,  and  every 
appropriate  implement  that  could  be  used  on  the 
farm.  The  barn,  erected  in  1843,  was  very  large, 
built  of  stone  and  pebble-dashed ;  and  it  stands  to- 
day in  a  state  of  perfect  preservation,  all  except  the 
roof,  perhaps,  which  was  of  shingle.  The  mows 
were  ample  enough  to  hold  the  crops  and  to  allow 
stable  room  for  all  the  cows  and  horses  that  could 
be  utilized  on  the  place. 

The  buildings  mentioned,  were  they  to  be  built 
now,  would  cost  not  less  than  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars.  Yet  no  such  buildings  are  put  up  in  these 
days,  but  something  more  cheaply  built  and  there- 
fore less  permanent  in  character.  I  did  not  pay  as 
much  as  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  for  the  whole 
farm  mansion.  Barring  possible  fires,  the  old  man- 
sion, the  wagon  house,  and  the  great  barn  will  be 
standing  a  century  from  now  and  in  almost  as  good 
condition  as  they  are  now. 

I  had  purchased  the  farm  in  1884  at  the  close  of 
the  successful  year  of  the  Farm  Journal.  In  1885  I 
planted  half  the  farm  with  fruit  trees,  as  I  have  be- 
fore stated.  In  the  spring  of  1887,  having  had  an- 
other prosperous  year  at  the  office,  I  erected  North 
View  from  the  profits  the  paper  yielded  from  the 
previous  season's  drive.  When  the  mansion  was 
18  273 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

finished  it  was  paid  for,  and  that  I  deem  a  good  and 
proper  way  to  conclude  such  an  undertaking.  Such 
a  mansion  as  North  View  would  now  cost  double 
what  it  cost  me  then,  nor  would  it  be  built  in  this 
age  so  substantially.  In  my  building  scheme  I  was 
favored  in  this — I  had  my  farm  teams  to  do  the 
hauling  of  material,  my  farm  hands  to  carry  the 
stone  to  the  masons;  I  found  almost  enough  stone 
in  the  ancient  ruins  of  a  large  house  two  miles  away, 
and  I  took  sufficient  sand  out  of  the  cellar  for  the 
mortar  that  was  needed.  The  house  would  have 
cost  several  thousand  dollars  more  had  I  not  been 
favored  with  the  conditions  mentioned.  I  had  also 
to  build  a  stable,  the  cash  for  the  same  being  ren- 
dered available  by  the  favors  of  Our  Folks  scat- 
tered far  and  wide  over  the  continent. 

My  old  farmhouse  was  occupied  first  by  one 
Trego,  who  acted  as  foreman,  but  who  after  one 
year  gave  place  to  Frank  Shugard,  an  honest  man. 
He  then  became  foreman  of  my  farming  operation 
and  so  remained  with  me  until  the  end.  He  and  his 
wife  Lydia  are  now  living  with  a  daughter  in  Phila- 
delphia, where  he  has  good  employment  in  one  of  the 
parks  of  the  city.  It  pays  to  be  honest — it  pays  bet- 
ter than  almost  anything  else. 

It  was  a  man's  job  to  conduct  the  Farm  Journal 
on  new  lines,  to  achieve  its  expanding  circulation, 
and  to  establish  and  embellish  a  country  seat  such 
as  I  had  in  mind  when  I  first  thought  of  going  to 
the  country  to  make  a  home  for  my  family  and  my- 
self. If  the  reader  questions  this  statement  let 
him  try  it. 

I  believed  then,  as  I  believe  now,  that  it  is  a 
great  advantage  to  the  editor  of  a  farm  paper  to  be 
in  touch  with  the  soil  and  with  the  farm  neighbors. 
I  tried  many  experiments  in  varieties  of  grain,  of 

274 


BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 

fruits  and  of  small  fruits,  in  fertilizer,  in  methods 
of  cultivation,  in  farm  implements  and  machinery, 
and  gained  in  this  way  much  knowledge  that  was 
utilized  for  the  benefit  of  my  readers. 

Had  I  expected  to  increase  my  fortune  by  en- 
gaging in  farming  I  would  have  suffered  disap- 
pointment, but  I  had  no  such  thought.  Conducting 
many  experiments,  as  I  did,  some  of  them  expen- 
sive, and  having  to  hire  nearly  all  work  done,  and 
not  being  on  hand  to  supervise  it,  I  was  at  a  disad- 
vantage in  my  efforts  at  the  annual  reckoning  to 
establish  a  balance  on  the  right  side  of  the  ledger ; 
but  this  did  not  worry  me  much.  Had  it  done  so  I 
should  never  have  had  one-half  the  fun  out  of  my 
experiments  that  I  did  have.  I  may  say  here  that  I 
kept  no  set  of  books  and  did  not  know  if  I  lost  or 
gained  money,  and  if  so,  how  much.  I  never  was  a 
success  at  bookkeeping;  in  truth,  never  kept  books 
at  all,  except  that  I  put  down  my  expenditures  on 
one  page  and  receipts  on  another.  By  subtracting 
the  sum  of  one  from  the  other  I  could  form  some 
idea,  of  how  matters  were  going.  The  reader  may 
remember  that  I  stated  early  in  this  writing  that  I 
did  exclusively  a  cash  business,  paying  for  what  I 
bought  and  insisting  upon  cash  for  what  I  sold. 
Under  this  simple  system  it  was  not  difficult  to  get 
along  without  much  bookkeeping  and  yet  maintain  a 
pretty  accurate  knowledge  of  business  conditions. 

After  Charles  came  to  the  office  to  assist  me,  he 
soon  took  over  the  credit  and  debit  branch  of  my  work 
and  I  ceased  entirely  to  concern  myself  over  it.  I 
really  never  had  any  "  concern  "  about  it.  If  I  kept 
any  books  at  all  to  record  "  Quinby  Farm  "  opera- 
tions, they  were  of  the  simplest  nature,  but  under 
the  circumstances  answered  my  purposes  very  well. 
I  may  here  say  that  I  have  observed  a  good  deal  of 

275 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

bookkeeping  in  my  time  which,  though  very  scientific 
and  elaborate,  was  no  better  than  my  own.  There 
is  a  way  of  manipulating  entries  in  order  to  insure  a 
balance  one  way  or  the  other  to  suit  existing  pur- 
poses ;  and  that  way  is  often  suggested  by  the  fellow 
who  keeps  the  books  under  the  direction  of  the 
proprietor.  In  the  case  of  the  Farm  Journal  no  such 
method  was,  so  far  as  I  could  tell,  ever  in  vogue. 

The  part  of  the  farm  not  occupied  by  orchards 
was  used  for  hay  and  grain,  but  among  the  trees  I 
was  careful  not  to  grow  anything  that  would  retard 
their  growth — sugar-corn,  potatoes,  tomatoes  and 
other  vegetables.  I  kept  the  orchard  ground  well 
cultivated  while  the  trees  were  young;  but  when 
they  became  older  I  thought  I  would  try  the  ex- 
periment of  pasturing  sheep  as  was  recommended 
by  some.  Danger  from  dogs  of  course  had  to  be 
provided  against,  so  I  built  a  pen  with  a  shed  for 
shelter  when  it  rained,  and  surrounded  the  pen  with 
a  wire  fence  so  tight  and  high  that  prowling  canines 
could  not  get  through  or  over  it.  The  sheep  were 
safe  enough  there ;  but,  as  the  orchard  was  nearly 
one-half  mile  away  from  the  barn  from  which  food 
must  be  hauled,  much  work  was  required  by  the 
shepherd  to  care  for  his  flock.  The  pasture  did  not 
afford  food  enough  of  the  right  kind  to  fatten  the 
sheep,  and  the  experiment  was  not  altogether  a 
success ;  but  it  taught  me  something,  and  knowledge 
was  what  I  sought.  I  may  mention  that  we  piped 
the  water  from  the  barn  to  the  sheep-pen  and  thus 
avoided  having  to  haul  it. 

I  kept  sheep  in  this  way  for  one  season  only,  and 
did  not  abandon  the  scheme  for  the  reason  that  it 
did  not  pay,  but  for  two  other  reasons — one  that  I 
thought  Shugard  had  enough  to  do  to  look  after 
worms,  weeds  and  crops,  and  the  other  that  after  I 

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BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 

got  the  sheep  fattened  I  did  not  like  to  send  them 
to  the  shambles  to  be  killed.  The  fattening  and 
killing  of  hogs  was  another  custom  prevalent  in  the 
neighborhood  and  carried  on  in  a  small  way  for  a 
short  time  at  "  Quinby  Farm,"  but  it,  too,  was  given 
up  for  the  same  reason  that  I  relinquished  sheep 
industry.  I  will  neither  apologize  for  nor  justify 
my  sensitiveness  in  the  matter  of  killing  the  animals. 

Having  given  up  the  culture  of  sheep,  I  next 
turned  to  dairying.  I  had  additional  stalls  made  in 
the  big  barn  and  bought  a  number  of  Jersey  cows 
and  heifers  of  the  choicest  kind  of  blue  blood,  not 
the  kind  that  would  yield  blue  milk,  but  quite  the 
contrary.  I  assembled  quite  a  herd  bought  at  a 
sale  at  Herkness's  Bazaar  at  Ninth  and  Walnut 
Streets.  This  experiment  met  the  same  fate  as  that 
of  the  sheep,  but  not  for  the  same  reasons.  I  had 
the  cows  for  about  a  year  and  then  sent  them  back 
to  the  bazaar  to  be  sold  for  what  they  would  fetch. 
They  did  not  bring  much,  but  as  I  was  not  practic- 
ing scientific  bookkeeping  I  never  knew  what  I  lost 
or  gained  by  the  experiment.  I  did  not  care  to  know. 

Several  of  the  young  cows — none  of  them  were 
old — gave  birth  to  a  few  nice,  healthy  calves;  in 
proof  of  their  being  healthy  they  were  able  to  get 
up  on  their  feet  within  a  few  hours  after  birth.  In 
the  early  stages  of  the  experiment  I  felt  encouraged ; 
but  something  happened  that  I  did  not  like.  One 
night  a  door  to  the  stable  became  open  in  some  way 
and  two  mules  escaped  into  the  cowshed  where  my 
two-hundred-dollar  calves  were  confined  and  did 
damage  to  the  extent  of  mangling  and  killing  two 
of  them. 

Following  that  event  I  thought  that  if  I  could 
not  take  care  of  my  cows  and  calves  myself  (and 
obviously  I  could  not,  since  I  was  in  town  every 

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WILMER  ATKINSON 

day  and  at  night  went  to  bed  when  the  poultry  did), 
it  was  not  worth  while  to  try  to  found  a  high-class 
dairy  on  "  Quinby  Farm."  So,  as  I  said,  I  disposed 
of  my  herd  to  save  further  anxiety  and  trouble.  I 
was  taught  a  lesson  which  I  have  never  forgotten, 
and  that  is  that  a  cowman  to  succeed  must  himself 
wait  attendance  upon  his  herd  and  not  trust  the 
care  of  them  to  others. 

I  had  not  startling,  but  decidedly  better,  success 
with  chickens,  probably  because  Shugard,  my  fore- 
man, felt  more  at  home  in  caring  for  them.  For 
sheltering  the  poultry  I  built  a  house  about  one 
hundred  feet  long  and  twelve  feet  wide,  at  one  end 
of  which  I  dug  a  pit  for  sugar  beets.  I  bought  a 
clover  cutter,  a  boiler  for  cooking  food,  and  a  lot  of 
brooders  for  the  protection  of  the  young  chicks  in 
lieu  of  mother  hens,  for  I  had  bought  day-old  chicks 
instead  of  obtaining  a  supply  in  nature's  old-fash- 
ioned way.  I  forget  whether  I  sold  those  brooders 
or  gave  them  away,  but  they  were  of  no  benefit  to 
me  while  I  had  them.  They  cooked  the  chicks  when 
the  lamps  became  too  hot  and  most  of  those  that 
survived  the  cooking  were  smothered  to  death. 

In  order  to  economize  roofing  I  had  built  the 
house  with  two  stories;  but  I  soon  realized  that  a 
two-story  building  one  hundred  feet  long,  twelve 
feet  wide,  and  fourteen  feet  high,  presenting  such  a 
broad  side  to  the  west  winds  and  the  fury  of  tor- 
nadoes that  swept  along  our  way,  was  likely  to  be 
blown  over.  If  that  happened,  its  occupants  would 
all  be  crumpled  up  in  the  ruin  of  the  structure.  I 
foresaw  the  danger  of  such  a  calamity  and  put  up  a 
number  of  leaning  props,  fastening  one  end  of  each 
to  the  top  of  the  building  and  the  other  end  to  posts 
planted  in  the  ground  and  cemented  in  such  an  en- 
during way  as  to  resist  the  onset  of  summer  storms 

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BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 

or  March  winds  that  might  overthrow  the  building 
and  involve  Shugard's  chicks  and  my  hopes  in 
indiscriminate  ruin. 

I  believe  if  eggs  then  could  have  been  sold  at  the 
price  we  are  paying  now,  I  would  have  made  a  for- 
tune by  my  poultry  venture,  for  I  raised  on  the  farm 
a  considerable  proportion  of  the  food  required  for 
the  flock.  I  do  remember  that  several  times  I 
bought  ninety  bushels  of  wheat  because  I  required 
as  much  as  that  more  than  the  farm  yielded  to  keep 
the  hens  busy  shelling  out.  This  experiment  re- 
mained in  full  blast  as  long  as  I  owned  "  Quinby 
Farm."  There  never  was  a  time  that  I  did  not  enjoy 
my  experiments  on  the  farm,  whether  attended  by 
success  or  failure.  The  way  to  know  things  is  to 
try  them  out  one's  self,  and  there  is  no  disputing  the 
fact  that  knowledge  is  power. 

In  order  to  protect  my  fifty-acre  apple  orchard 
from  high  winds  that  would  blow  off  the  fruit  and 
uproot  some  of  the  trees,  I  set  out  white  pines  all 
around  it,  so  that  it  would  not  be  exposed  to  de- 
struction in  that  way  from  any  quarter.  The  pines 
grew  to  a  large  size  before  I  moved  away  and  now 
are  a  permanent  feature  of  the  neighborhood  and 
may  be  seen  for  miles.  They  were  of  little  use  to 
me,  the  reason  being  that  the  San  Jose  scale  played 
such  havoc  with  the  orchard  that  the  fruit  was  of 
no  great  value,  anyway.  I  have  always  been  glad 
that  I  left  my  mark  on  the  landscape  of  Upper 
Dublin  with  my  grand  rows  of  white  pines. 

I  engaged  quite  extensively  in  the  production  of 
strawberries  for  the  Philadelphia,  Germantown  and 
local  markets.  Every  year  I  had  two  or  three  acres 
planted,  much  of  the  ground  being  taken  up  by  trial 
beds.  There  was  no  variety  then  known  that  I  did 
not  try.  I  found  a  few  only  that  were  of  real  value. 

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WILMER  ATKINSON 

As  for  me,  my  profit  was  mostly  in  being  able  to  tell 
Our  Folks  what  I  learned  about  the  various  varieties 
advertised  by  their  originators.  There  was  much 
difficulty  in  obtaining  enough  reliable  pickers  to 
secure  prompt  and  careful  harvesting  of  my  crops. 
But  our  daughters  with  great  assiduity  superin- 
tended the  picking  and  preparation  of  the  berries 
for  market.  I  noticed  also  that  if  one  season  was 
too  dry  for  the  best  results,  the  next  one  might  be 
too  wet,  so  that  my  beds  would  become  bogs  and  the 
berries  unsalable.  When  the  weather  was  right  and 
the  berries  were  fine  and  in  abundance,  the  bottom 
was  apt  to  drop  out  of  the  market.  That  is,  when  I 
had  berries,  there  was  no  market,  and  when  there 
was  a  market  there  were  few  berries.  It  was  worth 
something — perhaps  all  it  cost — to  know  this,  for  I 
could  then  sympathize  with  my  Farm  Journal  folks 
who  were  engaged  in  berry  growing;  and  oh,  my! 
how  the  family  did  revel  in  strawberries,  and  sweet 
ones — not  the  acid  kinds  that  are  usually  sent  to 
market!  We  also  had  blackberries  and  raspberries, 
red  and  black,  of  most  delicious  flavors  and  in 
great  abundance. 

One  year  I  planted  a  five-acre  field  with  cab- 
bages, thinking  that  there  might  be  profit  in  this 
crop,  but  there  was  none.  The  beautiful  cabbage 
butterflies  found  out,  apparently,  in  advance  what 
my  purpose  was,  and  set  up  a  job  "  on  "  me.  I  ob- 
tained a  good  stand  of  young  plants,  but  the  lovely 
flies  winged  their  dizzy  flight  all  over  the  field  and 
laid  a  number  of  eggs  on  each  plant.  After  the  eggs 
hatched — they  must  all  have  hatched — the  resulting 
worms  lost  not  an  hour's  time;  for  they  went  to 
work  and,  without  taking  any  noon  period  or  any 
rest  on  rainy  days  or  at  night,  they  kept  on  until 
many  of  the  plants  were  past  recognition  by  their 

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BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 

friend  Shugard  or  by  me.  The  worst  of  it  was  that 
the  worms  bored  into  the  heads  which  were  just 
forming,  and  burrowed  and  rooted  around  there 
until  what  should  have  been  solid  heads  of  cabbage 
were  nothing  but  canals  running  in  every  direction, 
while  the  borings  were  strewed  all  over  the  ground. 
I  did  not  try  cabbages  again,  but  I  learned  what  it 
was  to  grow  cabbages  and  could  sympathize  with 
Our  Folks  when  failure  should  be  their  portion,  as  I 
was  sure  it  often  was. 

In  order  to  insure  a  better  market  for  our  pro- 
duce, I  rented  a  store  in  a  central  location  in  Ger- 
mantown  some  ten  miles  away,  and  twice  a  week 
had  Shugard  take  a  wagon  load  down  and  open  a 
farmers'  market.  I  had  signs  put  up  on  the  front 
calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  goods  sold  there 
were  fresh  from  my  Upper  Dublin  farm.  Shugard 
did  a  sprightly  business  from  the  first,  and  people  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  store  came  in  great  num- 
bers and  were  willing  to  pay  any  price  asked.  The 
news  spread  and  customers  increased  faster  than  I 
could  produce  the  goods.  The  result  was  that  I  had 
to  send  out  far  and  wide  throughout  the  country  to 
reinforce  my  supplies  of  butter  and  eggs,  so  that  I 
might  keep  pace  with  increasing  demand.  The  re- 
ceipts kept  mounting  up  until  at  last  Shugard  would 
bring  home  some  days  from  fifty  to  seventy-five 
dollars  for  goods  sold.  I  used  to  go  out  from  the 
city  on  market  mornings  to  help  sell  and  I  also  sent 
others  out  to  aid. 

Meantime  my  legitimate  business  was  primarily 
to  publish  the  Farm  Journal  and  only  secondly  to  grow 
produce  and  try  experiments  on  my  Upper  Dublin 
farm,  and  not  at  all  to  run  a  store  in  Germantown, 
even  if  a  fortune  stared  me  in  the  face.  The  experi- 
ment, instead  of  being  a  failure,  was  a  success  so 

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WILMER  ATKINSON 

pronounced  that  I  had  to  give  it  up.  So  after  due 
notice  to  my  customers,  and  much  to  their  disap- 
pointment, I  closed  the  place  and  concluded  that  I 
would  stick  to  the  old  way  of  disposing  of  my  crops. 

For  a  time  the  Shugards  boarded  the  two  hired 
men ;  but  I  thought  it  better  to  build  cottages  for 
them,  and  allow  them  ground  for  growing  their  own 
vegetables.  This  I  did.  Besides  the  two  hired  men, 
I  had  two  others  to  come  by  the  day  to  help  with  the 
work  during  the  rush  season.  There  is  an  art  in 
handling  men.  If  you  want  them  to  improve,  treat 
them  with  consideration;  if  you  want  them  to  get 
worse  and  worse,  scold  them  morning,  noon  and 
night  and  between  times.  Take  council  with  them ; 
ask  them  for  their  advice,  showing  that  you  have 
confidence  in  their  judgment  and  have  respect  for 
them ;  treated  thus  they  become  clay  in  your  hands, 
to  be  moulded  to  your  needs,  because  you  stimulate 
their  ambition  and  advance  them  to  higher  places  of 
independence  and  manhood. 

Among  the  first  help  I  had  was  a  colored  boy, 
Robert,  who  came  up  from  Virginia  and  was  en- 
gaged to  work  for  me.  There  never  lived  a  better 
farm  hand  than  he  became.  He  was  active  in  the 
performance  of  his  work  on  my  farm  for  twenty- 
six  years  (occupying  one  of  the  cottages),  and  he 
and  his  family  are  in  the  same  cottage  yet,  having 
continued  to  work  for  the  successive  purchasers  of 
"  Quinby  Farm."  He  was  treated  right  and  in  turn 
he  used  his  employer  right.  The  other  cottage  was 
occupied  by  another  colored  man  who  also  made 
good  and  who  also  works  for  the  present  "  Quinby 
Farm  "  owner. 

Benny  Bennett  was  a  day  man  who  lived  in  the 
neighborhood  and  came  often  to  help.  He  was  a 
Civil  War  veteran  and  received  a  pension,  but  he 
wanted  his  pension  increased.  He  often  declared 

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BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 

that  the  Government  was  going  to  increase  it  and 
that  each  ex-soldier  would  receive  one  dollar  a  day. 
He  was  obsessed  with  that  idea.  I  did  not  believe 
he  would  ever  get  the  one  dollar  a  day  pension ;  but 
he  was  right,  for  he  did  get  it  and  is  still  receiving 
it  if  he  is  alive. 

For  several  years  old  Tommy  Arrington,  a 
mulatto,  did  work  for  me.  He  was  from  the  South 
and  had  been  a  slave ;  he  had  the  manners  of  a 
gentleman  and  though  he  was  slow,  he  was  depend- 
able and  did  excellent  work.  Before  he  came  north 
he  had  been  much  married  and  had  numerous  chil- 
dren. He  had  a  young  wife  in  Upper  Dublin  when 
he  worked  for  us,  an  excellent  woman  who  did  our 
washing  and  cleaning.  The  two  have  several  chil- 
dren who  still  live  in  the  neighborhood. 

The  first  man  we  had  as  an  all-around  man  at 
North  View  was  an  Austrian  or  Pole — Radesky, 
or  some  such  name.  He  turned  out  to  be  a  thief, 
for  on  the  first  night  at  North  View  he  got  out 
of  bed  and  sneaked  all  around  the  house  trying  to 
open  doors,  his  purpose  evidently  being  to  steal 
something  and  make  off.  He  moved  down  the  pike 
the  next  day  with  my  overcoat,  and  I  was  glad  to 
get  rid  of  him  at  no  greater  expense.  The  next 
stable  man  we  obtained  was  an  old,  long-bearded 
Teuton  who  was  of  little  use,  for  he  did  not  know 
how  to  do  anything  about  a  stable.  His  idea  was 
that  the  quiler  should  be  put  on  the  front  end  of  the 
animal  and  the  bridle  on  the  other,  and  he  was  slow 
in  learning  any  better.  Longbeard  gave  place  to  a 
native  remarkable  for  his  lack  of  speed  in  his  work 
and  inspired  me  with  the  ardent  wish,  whenever  I 
saw  him,  that  he  would  get  a  move  on  him.  While  at 
work  he  kept  an  eye  on  the  road,  being  evidently  greatly 
interested  in  whatever  was  passing  there. 

283 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

The  next  man,  who  was  named  William,  was 
large  and  strong,  and  wore  a  red  shirt.  One  of  the 
mules  refused  to  work  under  his  dictation  for  the 
reason  that  Jake  the  blacksmith,  who  wore  a  shirt 
of  similar  dye,  often  roughly  tried  to  shoe  him 
against  the  wishes  of  his  muleship.  William  had  to 
put  on  his  coat,  even  on  the  hot  days,  and  conceal 
the  red  shirt  before  the  mule  would  esteem  him  as 
any  other  than  a  dire  enemy.  With  the  red  shirt 
exposed  the  man  was  persona  non  grata  to  the  mule. 
He  used  to  come  with  some  regularity  to  the  house 
from  the  cottage  where  he  lived  and  appropriate  our 
kerosene,  enough  by  day  to  keep  his  lamps  burn- 
ing at  night.  He  also  took  milk  which  was  in  no 
sense  his  but  belonged  to  me.  One  Sunday  my  wife 
discovered  him  in  our  raspberry  patch  with  a  large 
kettleful  of  berries  intended  for  his  private  use. 
Anna  thanked  him  and  bore  the  berries  home  for 
our  own  supper.  One  of  the  worst  things  he  did 
was  to  ride  the  harrow  and  make  my  pair  of  rather 
small  mules  drag  him  back  and  forth  all  day  long. 
We  were  not  sorry  when  he  sought  another  victim 
of  his  peculiar  ways. 

Another  man  who  did  some  work  for  us  lived  in 
a  neighbor's  house  nearby.  He  was  so  lazy  that  three 
days  were  required  for  him  to  do  one  day's  work, 
and  sometimes  he  would  fall  down  on  that.  His 
wife  was  one  who  picked  up  any  sequestered  things 
whether  or  not  they  belonged  to  her.  This  we  soon 
found  out,  but  she  did  not  care. 

One  of  the  best  workers  we  ever  had  was  an 
Irishman  who  came  to  us  fresh  from  the  old  sod. 
He  was  big  and  strong  and  had  red  hair  and  his 
name  was  Teddy.  As  soon  as  he  arrived  I  ques- 
tioned him  thus:  "Can  you  plow?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  yes,  sir!  " 

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BACK  TO  UPPER  DUBLIN 

"Can  you  milk?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  yes,  sir !  " 

"  Can  you  curry  a  horse  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  yes,  sir !  " 

"  Are  you  honest?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  yes,  sir!  " 

"Can  you  fight?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  yes,  sir!  " 

"  If  so,  will  you  be  fighting  the  other  men  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  yes,  sir !  " 

"What?" 

"  Oh,  no,  sir ;  no  sir !  " 

But  it  turned  out  one  Sunday  afternoon  that  two 
of  our  men  down  at  the  farm,  one  an  Englishman, 
fell  on  him  and  tried  to  whip  him,  but  they  found 
that  he  could  fight,  for  he  licked  them  both.  He 
could  grub  out  more  apple  stumps  in  a  day  without 
looking  up  and  perspire  more  than  any  man  I  ever 
had  on  the  place.  Later  he  bought  some  land  in  the 
neighborhood  and  became  a  successful  farmer. 
Irishmen  are  apt  to  do  this. 

After  three  or  four  years  of  such  experiences,  I 
found  men  against  whom  nothing  of  adverse  nature 
could  be  said ;  and  when  I  sold  the  farm  and  North 
View  I  was  served  by  six  first-class  men,  com- 
petent, honest  and  loyal,  who  always  took  a  vital 
interest  in  their  work  and  never  looked  up  to  see  if 
their  employer  was  watching  them.  They  gave  no 
trouble  and  did  their  best  to  make  our  country  life 
comfortable  and  happy.  I  found  it  was  best  to  pro- 
vide a  nice  home  with  ample  gardens  for  each  man 
and  to  treat  him  as  one  Christian  should  treat  an- 
other. Children  became  a  marked  feature  of  the 
landscape  on  "  Quinby  Farm."  At  one  time  as  I 
remember  there  were  seventeen. 


285 


CHAPTER  XXII 
NORTH  VIEW 

THE  honor  was  accorded  my  wife's  father, 
Samuel  Allen,  of  breaking  ground  at  Three  Tuns 
for  our  new  home,  which  was  to  be  named  North 
View.  We  came  with  him  from  the  city  on  Sep- 
tember thirtieth,  1886,  for  the  purpose,  and  the  cere- 
mony was  performed  with  much  grace  and  dignity. 

The  cellar  and  well  were  dug  soon  after  that  and 
the  material  was  hauled.  The  architect's  plans  were 
prepared  and  accepted,  but  building  was  not  com- 
menced until  April ;  and  the  house  was  not  ready  for 
occupancy  until  the  following  spring.  My  plan  was 
to  have  a  plain  house  to  be  built  by  day's  work,  not 
by  contract,  and  in  the  most  substantial  manner; 
and  this  plan  was  carried  out. 

Two  porches  were  provided  for,  one  on  the  north 
side,  which  may  be  seen  in  the  illustration, 
the  other  on  the  south  front  directly  opposite.  I 
did  not  plan  for  the  north  porch,  but  my  wife  and 
daughters  overruled  me  on  that  subject,  and  I  was 
always  glad  they  did,  for  we  came  to  use  it  more 
than  the  other  one.  Entering  from  the  north  porch 
one  came  into  a  large  hall  eighteen  by  twenty  feet 
in  size,  less  the  space  occupied  by  the  wide  oaken 
stairway.  To  the  right  was  the  sitting-room,  twenty- 
one  by  fifteen  feet,  with  four  large  windows.  There 
was  an  ample  fireplace  with  a  motto  on  the  panel 
above  from  Whittier's  "  Lumberman  " :  "  Pitchy 
knot  and  beechen  splinter  on  our  hearth  shall  glow." 
To  the  left  of  the  hall  was  the  dining-room,  also 
with  provision  for  a  fire  on  the  hearth.  This  was 
the  inscription  on  the  mantel :  "  Let  us  dine  and  never 
fret."  The  room  over  the  sitting-room  was  the  one 
wife  and  I  occupied  at  night;  it,  too,  had  an  open 

286 


ENTERING  THE  DRIVEWAY  AT  NORTH  VIEW 


NORTH  VIEW 

hearth  and  inscribed  on  a  panel  above  were  the  words : 
"  Enjoy  the  Golden  Dew  of  Sleep." 

It  would  not  interest  the  reader  to  have  any 
elaborate  description  of  the  remainder  of  the  house, 
except  that  I  may  mention  the  cupola  on  top  to 
which  we  often  repaired  to  view  the  landscape  spread 
out  for  miles  on  every  side.  North  View  is  on 
the  watershed  between  the  Delaware  and  Schuylkill 
rivers,  and  from  the  cupola  the  landscape  seemed 
to  fade  away  in  every  direction,  and  the  observer 
had  a  long  sweep  of  a  most  beautiful  country.  When 
strangers  came  to  visit  us  it  was  part  of  their  enter- 
tainment to  go  up  there,  and  they  usually  deemed  it 
worth  while  to  make  the  ascent.  When  they  came 
down  they  were  invited  to  register  their  names  in  a 
book  kept  for  the  purpose.  Few  ever  got  away  with- 
out going  through  that  performance.  By  opening 
this  book  now,  containing  the  carefully  kept  record, 
we  can  recall  the  visits  of  our  many  friends  extend- 
ing over  a  period  of  a  quarter  of  a  century.  Some- 
times a  visitor  would  break  into  verse  or  prose  and 
register  a  sentiment  that  we  may  now  turn  to  with 
fond  recollection  of  the  inscribing  friend.  Within 
two  weeks  after  we  had  moved  to  our  new  home,  we 
had  a  goodly  number  of  friends  to  visit  us — a  sort 
of  house-warming — who,  when  they  came  down  from 
the  cupola,  wrote  a  composite  acrostic  as  below : 

1.  "  .A/ever  before  did  the  sun  shine  so  brightly 

2.  Over  North  View  in  its  new  coat  of  paint ; 

3.  teaching  the  tree-tops,  touching  them  lightly ; 

4.  Thus  making  a  picture,  both  novel  and  quaint. 

5.  //ow  we  all  climbed  the  stairs,  joyful  and  sprightly, 

6.  Fery  happy  we  were,  and  not  a  bit  faint. 

7.  /  think  we  enjoyed  it,  all,  really  most  mightily, 

8.  Every  name  it  was  signed  without  a  complaint. 

9.  With  this  I  close  the  poem  up  tightly !  " 

287 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

No.  I  was  composed  by  Miss  Maria  G.  Cope,  who 
not  long  after  became  the  bride  of  No.  2,  Charles  F. 
Jenkins;  No.  3  was  from  the  pen  of  H.  T.  Paiste,  a 
well-known  business  man  of  Philadelphia;  No.  4  was 
by  an  architect  friend  who  has  since  died ;  No.  5  was 
by  Dr.  Harrison  Allen,  brother  of  Anna,  and  Professor 
at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania ;  No.  6  by  Daughter 
Elizabeth;  No.  7  by  Dr.  W.  W.  Speakman,  of  the 
Hahnemann  College,  Philadelphia ;  No.  8  by  Daughter 
Emily;  and  No.  9  by  Dr.  Charles  K.  Mills,  another 
distinguished  physician  of  Philadelphia. 

The  following  typifies  our  fond  hopes  in  building 
our  home: 

"  The  Beauty  of  the  House  is  Order; 

The  Blessing  of  the  House  is  Contentment; 
The  Glory  of  the  House  is  Hospitality; 
The  Crown  of  the  House  is  Godliness." 

I  am  induced  on  this  page  of  my  book  to  quote 
the  following  beautiful  sentiments  which  have  for 
many  years  adorned  the  walls  of  our  home,  wherever 
it  may  have  been,  in  winter  or  summer: 

"  This  home  is  dedicated  to  good  will.  It  grew 
out  of  love.  The  two  heads  of  the  household  were 
called  together  by  a  power  higher  than  they.  To  its 
decree  they  are  obedient.  Every  tone  of  the  voice, 
every  thought  of  their  being,  is  subdued  to  that  ser- 
vice. They  desire  to  be  worthy  of  their  high  call- 
ing, as  ministers  of  that  grace.  They  know  their 
peace  will  go  unbroken  only  for  a  little  time.  And 
often  they  suspect  that  the  time  will  be  more  short 
even  than  their  anxious  hope.  They  cannot  permit 
so  much  as  one  hour  of  that  brief  unity  to  be  touched 
by  scorn  or  malice.  The  world's  judgments  have 
lost  their  sting  inside  this  door.  Those  who  come 

288 


NORTH  VIEW 

seeking  to  continue  the  harmony  which  these  two 
have  won  are  ever  welcome.  The  rich  are  welcome, 
so  they  come  simply.  The  poor  are  welcome,  for 
they  have  already  learned  friendliness  through  buf- 
feting. Youth  is  welcome,  for  it  brings  the  joy 
which  these  two  would  learn.  Age  is  welcome,  for 
it  will  teach  them  tenderness." 

I  feel  sure  that  there  is  no  reader  of  this  auto- 
biography who  will  not  appreciate  the  beautiful 
sentiments  here  expressed,  which  may  prove  an 
inspiration  to  everyone  to  whom  the  word  "  home  " 
has  a  sacred  meaning. 


19  289 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
MAN'S  LOYAL  FRIEND— THE  DOG 

"A  DOG  is  the  only  creature  on  this  earth  that 
loves  you  more  than  he  loves  himself.  If  he  loves 
once,  he  loves  forever.  He  is  under  your  chair,  he  is 
with  you  when  you  walk,  he  is  asleep  at  your  door, 
and  he  would  gladly  die  on  your  grave.  If  you  are 
sad,  so  is  he ;  if  you  are  merry,  no  one  is  so  willing 
to  leap  and  laugh  with  you  as  he.  To  your  dog  you 
are  never  poor,  never  old ;  whether  you  are  rich  or 
poor,  he  does  not  care.  If  all  other  friends  forsake 
you,  he  is  true.  When  a  dog  gives  his  love  he  gives 
his  sympathy,  faith  and  undying  loyalty.  He  asks  in 
return  only  a  kindly  word  and  caress." 

Dogs  know  much  more  than  they  are  believed  to 
know  by  anybody  except  those  who  love  and  under- 
stand them;  and  dogs  feel  their  treatment,  whether 
harsh  or  kind,  much  more  keenly  than  most  people 
are  aware  of. 

When  you  think  that  all  friends  have  forsaken 
you  and  that  you  are  walking  a  lonely  path,  when 
you  sigh  for  the  company  of  some  one  who  will  be 
true  to  you  as  long  as  you  live,  just  whistle  for  your 
dog.  He  will  lick  your  hand  and  in  dog  language 
tell  you  he  is  ready  to  die  for  you. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  once  to  own  a  dog  whose 
qualities  of  friendship  and  devotion  won  my  heart, 
and  were  a  source  of  much  pleasure  to  the  whole 
family.  On  the  opposite  page  may  be  seen  a  portrait  of 
Jeanie  Deans,  a  black  and  tan  collie,  who  was  my 
family's  interested  friend  from  the  day,  when  on  my 
return  from  the  city  I  brought  her  from  Ambler 

290 


MAN'S  LOYAL  FRIEND— THE  DOG 

station  in  a  crate,  until  she  died  eight  years  later.  I 
cannot  conceive  of  a  more  intelligent  and  faithful 
dog  than  she  proved  herself  to  be.  While  the  family 
took  more  interest  in  caring  for  her  wants  and  in 
training  her  than  I  did,  her  especial  devotion  to  me 
would  indicate  that  she  deemed  me  most  essential 
to  her  well-being.  I  have  had  many  friends  in  my 
time,  but  none  who  were  ever  able  to  ignore  my 
faults  as  she  did.  She  was  the  only  worshiper  I  ever 
had,  and  she  never  failed  in  her  devotion. 

She  was  a  wee  pup  when  she  came,  never  having 
had  a  master,  direct  from  the  kennel  of  Silas  Decker. 
She  had  everything  to  learn  except  how  to  eat  and 
whine  and  bark.  From  the  start  she  was  looking 
for  someone  to  worship,  and  she  selected  me  because 
she  saw  me  first  and  because  I  brought  her  over  from 
the  station,  and  liberated  her  from  her  slatted  prison, 
in  which  she  had  been  confined  for  two  days. 

One  of  the  first  things  she  did,  to  the  amusement 
of  the  family,  was  to  jump  on  the  table  and  devour 
some  cakes  which  were  lying  there.  Such  conduct 
disturbed  not  the  equanimity  of  the  family  who 
forthwith  forgave  her  because  she  knew  no  better. 
Her  primary  instinct  was  to  allay  hunger  and  she 
did  not  know  that  she  was  transgressing  the  law. 

It  was  summer  when  she  came  and  we  were  at 
North  View.  She  was  soon  house-broken  and  was 
allowed,  at  her  earnest  solicitation,  to  sleep  in 
Elizabeth's  room  at  night ;  but  it  was  not  the  inten- 
tion of  her  caretaker  to  allow  her  to  continue  to 
occupy  that  room  as  a  dormitory.  So  she  was  moved 
out  towards  the  entry  by  easy  stages,  a  foot  each 
night,  until  in  a  few  weeks  she  was  content  to  have 
the  door  closed,  with  her  dogship  out  in  the  hall. 
But  then  she  was  satisfied  only  when  she  slept  at 
my  door,  I  suppose  to  see  that  I  did  not  escape,  nor 

291 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

go  out  for  a  walk  without  inviting  her  to  go  along. 
Here  she  continued  to  sleep  and  watch  at  night 
during  all  the  time  we  spent  at  North  View. 

On  one  occasion,  at  midnight,  she  aroused  all  the 
sleepers  by  a  most  fierce  barking  and  savage  growl- 
ing. The  cause  of  the  agitation  was  unknown  to  us 
until,  in  the  morning,  we  found  that  burglars  had 
entered  the  hall  below  by  boring  through  a  shutter 
and  slipping  a  bolt,  and  had  prepared  to  prowl 
over  the  house  and  carry  off  such  valuables  as  they 
could  lay  their  hands  on.  We  know  that  the  thieves 
succeeded  in  entering  the  hall,  for  the  borings  from 
the  shutter  were  brushed  in  on  the  floor  under  the 
window.  The  dog  was  tied  and  could  not  go  down ; 
she  did  not  need  to,  for  the  thieves  crawled  out  the 
window  in  evident  hurry,  and  decamped.  None  of 
the  family  arose,  believing  that  Jeanie  Deans  had 
settled  the  affair,  whatever  it  was;  and  so  it  proved 
to  be.  The  scamps  went  across  the  road,  entered 
the  school  house  there,  stole  the  clock  and  a  dic- 
tionary and  perhaps  some  other  objects.  The  dog 
must  have  heard  what  they  were  at  for  she  kept  up  a 
low  growling  for  an  hour  or  two. 

This,  so  far  as  I  know,  was  the  only  time  she 
prevented  an  actual  burglary  of  our  premises,  but 
we  felt  secure  at  all  times  from  robbers,  by  day  and 
night,  while  she  lived. 

She  had  a  generous  heart  towards  her  dog  friends. 
Down  at  the  farm  house  lived  Sport,  who  sometimes 
came  up  to  make  a  call.  On  the  occasion  of  one  of 
these  visits,  Jeanie  Deans  took  her  friend  out  to  the 
cemetery  where  she  buried  bones;  then  she  dug 
down,  uncovered  a  bone,  and  stood  by  as  much  as 
to  say:  "Here,  Sport,  help  yourself."  For  some 
reason  Sport  declined  the  favor,  so  Jeanie  Deans 
covered  the  bone  up  again,  and  was  not  offended. 

292 


MAN'S  LOYAL  FRIEND— THE  DOG 

That  certainly  showed  a  generous  and  magnanimous 
spirit,  though  it  is  likely  that  there  were  other  bones 
there  and  this  one  could  easily  have  been  spared. 

As  we  lived  in  a  village,  some  of  our  neighbors' 
chickens  formed  the  habit  of  wandering  over  our 
lawn  in  search  of  food  and  recreation ;  and  as  they 
were  not  deemed  objects  of  beauty  or  utility,  and 
were  not  overly  clean  in  their  habits,  we  wished  to 
get  rid  of  them  and  called  Jeanie  Deans  to  our  aid  in 
putting  an  end  to  the  invasion.  She,  when  she  had 
learned  our  wishes  in  the  matter,  made  it  her  con- 
stant business  to  drive  our  feathered  neighbors  over 
the  fence  where  they  belonged.  The  dog  did  not 
understand  at  first  that  it  was  not  our  wish  to  have 
the  chickens  killed  or  injured,  though  we  told  her  so 
several  times.  Finally,  she  caught  and  killed  one, 
much  to  our  chagrin,  and  later  to  her  humiliation, 
for  I  took  the  victim  and  tied  it  around  her  neck 
where  it  hung  for  an  hour.  After  that  she  under- 
stood and  proved  her  usefulnesss  by  chasing  the 
chickens  off  but  never  injuring  another. 

Jeanie  Deans  was  a  pattern  of  virtue — that  is, 
she  would  avoid  doing  most  things  that  she  thought 
were  wrong.  But  there  was  one  sin  that  she  could 
never  resist — when  we  would  take  walks  down  the 
orchard  drive  and  would  pass  a  corn  field,  she  would 
slyly  slip  off  among  the  corn  in  search  of  chickens, 
and  would  tear  around  there  with  all  her  might 
knowing  well  she  was  transgressing  the  law,  for  we 
had  told  her  often  not  to  do  it ;  but  she  "  relapsed  to 
the  wild ;  "  she  could  not  help  it.  On  coming  out  of 
the  corn  she  was  utterly  humiliated  and  crestfallen 
that  she  should  have  yielded  to  the  sinful  impulse. 
Who  of  the  human  kind  have  but  one  sin? 

When  the  family  would  all  go  out  for  a  walk 
about  the  place,  it  was  her  purpose,  as  it  proved,  to 

293 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

keep  us  all  together;  and  if  one  would  stray  away 
far,  she  became  much  disturbed  in  her  mind.  She 
must  keep  us  together  and  not  lose  one  of  us  out 
of  her  sight  and  protection. 

She  learned  to  know  the  meaning  of  many  words 
and  sentences,  and  on  one  occasion  Emily  said  to  her 
(quoting  the  sign  at  the  railroad  station) :  "  Stop, 
Look,  Listen !  "  and  she  paused  between  each  word. 
Jeanie  Deans  observed  each  one  of  them ;  at  the  word 
"  Stop,"  she  stopped ;  at  the  word  "  Look,"  she 
looked  around  in  every  direction;  at  the  word 
"  Listen,"  she  stood  still  and  pricked  up  her  ears, 
proving  that  she  knew  the  meaning  of  each  word. 
This  performance  gave  Emily  the  idea  of  ascertain- 
ing how  many  words  and  sentences  Jeanie  Deans 
understood,  with  the  result  that  she  found  there  were 
over  two  hundred  such  words  and  sentences.  It  is 
true,  no  doubt,  that  dogs  understand  what  is  said  to 
them  far  better  than  is  generally  known.  They  com- 
prehend what  the  master  says  and  does  far  better 
than  the  master  understands  what  is  going  on  in  the 
mind  of  his  four-footed  friend. 

Jeanie  Deans  had  a  special  table-cloth  on  which 
was  placed  her  dish  when  she  was  fed.  When  the 
time  came  for  taking  her  food  she  would  bring  her 
cloth  and  always  place  it  in  the  right  spot.  When 
so  commanded,  she  would  go  up-stairs  to  call  to 
meals  the  member  who  was  tardy  in  coming,  and,  if 
necessary,  would  even  go  to  the  garret  in  search  of 
the  delinquent. 

Jeanie  Deans  had  a  good  friend  called  Robie,  a 
collie  not  yet  out  of  her  puppyhood,  who  was  ad- 
dicted to  chasing  automobiles  as  they  passed.  The 
older  dog,  in  order  to  teach  her  youthful  friend  bet- 
ter manners,  would  run  after  her,  overtake  her,  pass 
in  front  of  her  and  bring  the  chase  to  an  end.  In  a 
little  while  Robie  understood  and  her  fault  was  cor- 

294 


MAN'S  LOYAL  FRIEND— THE  DOG 

reeled.  Any  effort  a  man  could  make  to  break  a 
collie  pup  of  that  habit  would  fail,  short  of  the 
chloroform  method. 

The  day  we  left  North  View  for  our  first 
journey  to  Europe  was  one  of  great  trial  to  the 
family,  and  would  have  been  hard  for  the  dog  if  she 
had  fully  understood.  It  is  possible  that  she  did 
understand,  for  she  seemed  disturbed  and  anxious. 
We  took  her  down  to  one  of  the  cottages  and  left 
her  in  charge  of  a  good  friend  saying,  as  we  started 
down  the  lane :  "  Now,  Jeanie  Deans,  good-bye ;  we 
will  come  back;  just  wait  here."  She  understood 
what  the  word  "  wait "  meant,  but  could  not  know 
that  it  would  be  such  a  long  wait — three  months. 
Much  of  her  time  during  our  absence  she  lay  on  the 
cottage  porch,  gazing  down  the  lane  where  she  had 
seen  our  departing  forms  fade  away.  On  our  return, 
she  was  so  overcome  that  for  fully  two  hours  she 
seemed  entirely  crushed  with  emotion,  and  was  un- 
able to  welcome  us  in  her  usual  cheerful  way ;  after 
that  her  exuberant  joy  was  made  doubly  manifest. 
The  separation  must  have  been  a  heart-harrowing 
experience  to  our  loyal  friend.  We  never  left  her 
again  for  so  long  at  a  time. 

Her  body  now  lies  buried  in  a  shady  nook  on  the 
lawn  at  North  View,  beside  the  body  of  her  friend 
Robie ;  and  there  are  chiseled  headstones  above  their 
graves.  "  Jeanie  Deans — Died  1904."  "  Robie — 
Died  1911." 

Four  years  before  I  relinquished  active  editor- 
ship of  the  Farm  Journal,  I  introduced  a  Dog  Depart- 
ment in  the  paper  with  this  heading : 

About  Dogs 

That  they  may  be  better  understood,  appreciated 
and  treated. 

295 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

I  took  great  interest  in  the  new  department,  and 
I  found  that  dog-lovers  greatly  enjoyed  it.  Too 
many  people  do  not  understand  dogs  and  do  not  care 
for  them.  With  some  folks,  anything  is  good  enough 
for  a  dog  whose  proper  position  it  is,  they  think,  to 
be  ignored,  scolded,  kicked,  given  frozen  food  in 
winter,  and  turned  out  into  the  cold  without  shelter 
enough  to  keep  him  from  shivering  the  whole  night 
through.  I  am  glad  to  believe  that  there  are  fewer 
such  men  now  than  formerly. 

I  gave  much  helpful  advice  in  the  department 
and  have  some  assurance  that  it  did  good.  One  of 
Our  Folks  wrote  about  his  collie  Max,  who  strove 
to  make  himself  useful  by  learning  his  master's 
wishes  and  carrying  them  out.  For  four  years  Max 
carried  the  Farm  Journal  from  the  letter  box  at  the 
road  and  delivered  it  at  the  house.  At  the  proper 
time  each  month,  he  stationed  himself  at  the  porch 
and,  when  the  carrier  appeared  in  sight,  he  would 
go  with  open  mouth  to  receive  the  paper,  and  then 
without  stopping  would  proceed  to  deliver  it  to  his 
master.  He  carried  other  mail  matter,  making  two 
trips  when  the  mail  was  heavy ;  but  the  Farm  Journal 
was  his  pet  because  it  was,  as  he  thought,  the  family 
favorite.  At  night  Max  alone  would  bring  up  the 
cows.  A  portrait  of  him  with  the  Farm  Journal  in 
his  mouth  was  sent  in  with  the  above  information, 
and  was  printed  in  the  Farm  Journal. 

I  depended  much  on  what  friends  of  dogs  wrote, 
and  would  have  the  reader  know  that  much  of  what 
follows  is  selected  and  not  original.  A  good  dog 
invariably  regards  it  as  a  special  duty  of  his  to 
protect  children.  I  advised  my  readers  to  let  the 
small  boy  have  a  dog  for  a  pet  if  he  wished  one,  and 
to  treat  the  dog  right,  to  feed  him  well,  bed  him, 

296 


MAN'S  LOYAL  FRIEND— THE  DOG 

care  for  him,  teach  him  good  manners  and  thus  to 
lay  the  foundation  for  a  friendship  that  will  cause 
grief  when  it  comes  to  an  end.  Have  the  boy  treat 
the  dog  with  reason  and  dignity,  not  expecting  him 
to  understand  everything  at  first.  Teach  him  to 
think  with  him  and  work  with  him,  until  the  dog 
loves  him  and  knows  what  is  wanted ;  and  then  the 
boy  will  possess  one  of  the  delights  of  life. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  have  a  dog  meet  you  at  night 
when  you  come  home  from  school  or  work,  and  look 
you  in  the  face  and  welcome  you;  and  to  have  him 
wake  you  in  the  morning  when  you  should  go  to 
work — these  are  things  no  one  need  to  be  without. 
Men  may  prove  false,  but  a  dog  never. 

Much  has  been  said  about  a  dog's  "  uncanny  " 
way  of  divining  the  meaning  of  what  is  said  to  him. 
However,  it  is  all  very  rational  and  logical.  Did  you 
ever  notice  how  intently  a  dog  will  watch  your  face 
when  he  is  spoken  to?  He  can  tell,  by  the  accent 
of  your  voice,  by  your  looks  and  by  any  gestures 
you  may  make,  just  what  you  mean.  This  is  another 
proof  of  the  rare  amount  of  sense  that  dogs  possess. 

One  day  the  master  of  a  dog  was  called  away 
from  home  to  remain  several  days.  That  night  the 
family  missed  the  dog.  They  called  and  whistled 
without  avail,  and  when  he  did  not  return  the  next 
day  they  were  alarmed  about  him ;  he  was  not 
allowed  to  follow  teams,  and  had  never  been  known 
to  leave  home.  Toward  night  of  the  second  day, 
the  hired  man,  passing  through  the  cornfield,  was 
astonished  to  find  the  dog  patiently  guarding  a 
scarecrow  which  had  been  dressed  in  one  of  his 
owner's  suits.  It  required  considerable  coaxing  to 
induce  him  to  leave  his  master's  old  clothes  long 
enough  to  go  to  the  house  and  get  a  square  meal. 

297 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

When  a  dog's  tail  whips  to  and  fro  frantically, 
the  dog  is  not  carrying  on  an  aimless  muscular  exer- 
cise. He  is  signalling  the  thoughts  and  feelings 
which  he  can  not  put  into  words.  It  is  his  own  code 
and  varies  according  to  the  message  he  wishes  to 
flash  on  his  rearward  semaphore.  He  has  a  short 
twitching  motion  that  expresses  anxiety  and  inter- 
est, a  violent  lashing  that  makes  known  his  enthusi- 
asm and  affection,  a  steady  whipping  from  side  to 
side  that  spells  hunger,  and  a  motionless  droop  that 
signals  defeat  and  discouragement.  Canine  experts 
have  always  been  able  to  read  these  wig-waggings, 
but  it  took  science  to  explain  why  the  dog  used  them. 

This  is  the  explanation :  When  a  dog  is  pleased 
and  delighted  he  must  have  some  outlet  for  his  feel- 
ings. Just  as  in  the  presence  of  ladies  a  bashful  boy 
twists  his  cap  or  turns  about  wildly  in  his  chair;  or  as 
a  person,  tickled  beyond  measure  by  some  humorous 
sally,  rolls  on  the  floor  and  holds  his  sides — just  so 
does  the  dog  wave  his  tail.  The  human  beings  in 
the  situations  described  above  are  striving,  through 
physical  action,  to  relieve  the  strain  on  their  nerves. 
Embarrassment  must  be  relieved  through  some  out- 
ward convulsion  of  muscles.  Fido  becomes  filled 
with  joy,  and  his  tail,  like  a  safety  valve,  takes  the 
pressure  off  his  nervous  system.  His  emotions  must 
be  translated  into  some  physical  manifestation. 

By  their  wonderful  powers  of  scent,  bloodhounds 
trailed  a  horse  and  buggy  one  hundred  and  forty 
miles  after  being  allowed  to  smell  the  currycomb  used 
on  the  horses,  and  the  thieves  were  arrested.  The 
more  you  talk  to  a  dog  the  better  he  likes  it;  and  he 
times  his  temper  to  your  every  mood.  Are  you 
merry?  He  frisks  and  frolics  and  jumps  up  at  you 
with  abandon.  Are  you  sorrowful?  He  will  lay 

298 


MAN'S  LOYAL  FRIEND— THE  DOG 

his  head  softly  on  your  knees,  looking  up  into  your 
face  with  adoring,  kindly  eyes  that,  far  more  prettily 
than  words,  beg  you  to  cheer  up,  and  tell  you  that  he,  at 
all  events,  thinks  you  worthy  of  the  utmost  good  for- 
tune. The  right  kind  of  a  dog  never  lets  you  forget 
how  much  he  loves  you.  Thus,  I  tried  to  interest 
Farm  Journal  readers,  in  order  that  dogs  might  be 
better  understood  and  be  given  a  square  deal. 

On  the  back  of  the  frame  that  holds  the  portrait 
of  our  devoted  Jeanie  Deans  is  pasted  the  following 
beautiful  poem  by  J.  G.  Holland  to  his  dog  Blanco. 
In  dog  literature  it  is  classic. 

My  dear  dumb  friend,  low  lying  there, 
A  willing  vassal  at  my  feet, 
Glad  partner  of  my  home  and  fare, 
My  shadow  in  the  street. 

I  look  into  your  great  brown  eyes, 
Where  love  and  loyal  homage  shine, 
And  wonder  where  the  difference  lies 
Between  your  soul  and  mine. 

For  all  of  good  that  I  have  found, 
Within  myself  or  human  kind, 
Hath  royally  informed  and  crowned 
Your  gentle  heart  and  mind. 

I  scan  the  whole  broad  earth  around 
For  that  one  heart  which,  real  and  true, 
Bears  friendship  without  end  or  bound, 
And  find  the  prize  in  you. 

I  trust  you  as  I  trust  the  stars ; 
Nor  cruel  loss,  nor  scoff,  nor  pride, 
Nor  beggary,  nor  dungeon  bars, 
Can  move  you  from  my  side : 
299 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

As  patient  under  injury 
As  any  Christian  saint  of  old, 
As  gentle  as  a  lamb  with  me, 
But  with  your  brothers  bold ; 

More  playful  than  a  frolic  boy, 
More  watchful  than  a  sentinel, 
By  day  and  night  your  constant  joy 
To  guard  and  please  me  well; 

I  clasp  your  head  upon  my  breast — 
The  while  you  whine  and  lick  my  hand- 
And  thus  our  friendship  is  confessed 
And  thus  we  understand ! 

Ah,  Blanco!    Did  I  worship  God 
As  truly  as  you  worship  me, 
Or  follow  where  my  master  trod 
With  your  humility; 

Did  I  sit  fondly  at  His  feet, 
As  you,  dear  Blanco,  sit  at  mine, 
And  watch  Him  with  a  love  as  sweet, 
My  life  would  grow  divine. 


300 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

BEAUTIFYING  A  LANDSCAPE 

"  Who  plants  a  tree 
He  plants  love. 

Tents  of  coolness,  spreading  out  above 
Wayfarers  he  may  not  live  to  see; 
Gifts  that  grow  are  best. 
Hands  that  bless,  are  blest. 
Plant!    Life  does  the  rest." 

ALL  my  life  I  had  studied  the  landscape  art  and 
had  hoped  that  some  day  not  far  in  the  future  I 
would  be  situated  so  I  could  practice  it.  In  the 
month  of  April,  1888,  when  we  moved  to  North 
View,  the  time  had  come  for  me  to  beg-in.  Our 
house  was  built  right  in  the  center  of  a  five-acre 
lot  with  soil  so  fertile  that  everything  planted  could 
not  fail  to  take  advantage  of  the  chance  to  add  to  the 
attractiveness  of  our  home  surroundings. 

The  writings  of  Downing  and  Scott  were  acces- 
sible to  me  in  the  Three  Tuns  library  when  I  was  a 
boy  on  the  home  farm,  and  I  pored  over  them  many 
a  day,  perhaps  when  I  might  better  have  been  plow- 
ing or  pulling  weeds.  From  those  books  I  had 
learned  and  remembered  the  essential  principles  of 
the  landscape  art,  and  there  are  only  a  few  of  them. 
One  is  to  place  trees  in  such  position  as  not  to  shut 
off  from  the  house  beautiful  objects  in  the  landscape ; 
another  is  to  plant  them  so  that  all  objectionable 
objects  shall  be  hidden  from  view.  Another  is  to 
leave  open  spaces  across  the  lawn  so  that  passersby 
may  look  in  and  see  the  house.  Another  important 
principle  that  I  kept  in  mind  is  to  have  long 

301 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

stretches  of  grass,  with  trees  and  shrubs  only  at  the 
confines  of  the  lawn,  for  nothing  is  so  beautiful  as  a 
wide  expanse  of  grass  surrounding  the  house.  Being 
familiar  with  these  cardinal  principles  I  had  little 
difficulty  in  laying  the  foundation  of  an  attractive 
country  home. 

Trees  are  planted  at  the  border,  but  only  in  posi- 
tions where  they  will  not  obstruct  the  view  of  charm- 
ing stretches  of  landscape  outside.  Shrubs  may 
occupy  such  points  but  must  not  be  high  enough 
to  hide  distant  views.  Then,  in  planting  trees  it  is 
very  important  to  consider  the  shapes  of  the  trees, 
but  more  especially  the  color  must  be  taken  into 
account.  Groups  should  be  of  varying  shades  of 
color,  such  as  will  create  group  harmony.  Varying 
the  forms  of  the  trees  of  the  group  will  add  grace 
and  beauty.  The  planting  of  trees  on  a  lawn  is 
somewhat  of  the  same  nature  as  painting  a  picture ; 
a  carefully  designed  color  scheme  is  just  as  effective 
in  one  as  in  the  other.  These  points  are  usually 
overlooked  in  lawn  embellishment. 

I  deem  it  very  important  to  make  an  annual 
pruning  of  the  lower  limbs  of  a  lawn  tree.  Usually 
trees  are  allowed  to  go  without  this  pruning  and  are 
much  less  effective.  One  ought  not  to  be  afraid  of 
cutting  off  too  many  limbs  from  the  lower  part  of 
the  tree.  A  sprawling  tree  hides  the  beauty  of 
the  lawn. 

I  followed  these  obviously  simple  rules  and  found 
North  View  growing  in  beauty  year  after  year, 
much  to  my  joy  and  to  that  of  my  family  and  friends 
and  of  strangers  who  passed  our  way. 

I  always  loved  trees  and  shrubs,  vines  and 
flowers,  and  sought  the  most  beautiful  ones  every- 
where within  hundreds  of  miles  of  Upper  Dublin.  I 
visited  several  times  the  famous  Arnold  Arboretum 

302 


BEAUTIFYING  A  LANDSCAPE 

in  the  suburbs  of  Boston.  I  made  many  journeys  to 
inspect  nurseries  where  were  displayed  decorative 
trees  and  shrubs — Hoopes  Brothers  and  Thomas,  of 
West  Chester,  Pennsylvania;  Elwanger  and  Barry, 
of  Rochester,  New  York;  Harper,  of  Chestnut  Hill; 
Meehan,  of  Germantown ;  Moon,  of  Morrisville, 
Pennsylvania,  and  others,  from  whom  I  bought 
beautiful  growing  things  for  the  adornment  of  our 
lawn.  In  going  through  those  nurseries  I  spent 
hours  which  were  some  of  the  happiest  of  my  life. 
The  nurserymen  sometimes,  at  my  invitation,  came 
to  visit  North  View  and  spent  much  time  in 
looking  over  the  lawn,  making  suggestions,  perhaps 
criticising,  but  oftener  approving. 

I  recall  such  a  visit  from  Joseph  Meehan,  one  of 
the  Meehan  brothers,  of  Germantown,  who  had 
national  fame  as  horticulturists.  Joseph  was  a  regu- 
lar contributor  on  horticultural  subjects  to  the 
Gardeners'  Monthly  and  the  Germantown  Telegraph. 
He  prepared  for  the  latter  an  account  of  a  visit  to 
North  View  from  which  I  extract  the  following: 

"  Accepting  an  oft-repeated  invitation  to  spend  a 
few  hours  at  North  View,  the  home  of  Wilmer 
Atkinson,  I  found  myself  at  the  place  on  a  beautiful 
afternoon  in  mid-June.  It  was  my  regret  toward 
evening  that  I  had  not  allowed  myself  more  time, 
for  I  found  the  grounds  much  more  extensive  than 
I  had  anticipated,  and  I  could  do  no  more  than  make 
a  few  hasty  notes  of  matters  I  thought  of 
horticultural  interest. 

"  Mr.  Atkinson's  roomy  mansion  is  well  embow- 
ered in  vines  and  roses,  English  ivy,  yellow  jasmine 
and  Japanese  ivy  among  vines;  many  of  the  older 
and  uncommon  climbing  roses  were  used,  and  in 
some  cases  most  tastefully  intermixed.  What  Mr. 
Atkinson  assured  me  was  a  beautiful  sight  every 

303 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

season — as,  indeed,  I  can  well  believe — is  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  Japanese  ivy  and  clematis  intermixed 
on  the  house,  when  the  latter  is  in  flower.  The  Eng- 
lish ivy  is  planted  on  the  north  side  of  the  house,  as 
it  should  be,  to  escape  the  sun  in  winter,  and  it 
pleased  me  greatly  to  note  its  luxuriance.  The 
house  is  so  beautifully  vine-clad,  and  so  judiciously 
surrounded  with  shrubs,  that  I  could  almost  fancy 
myself  in  the  presence  of  an  old  English  mansion. 

"  On  the  southern  front  of  the  house  is  a  large 
specimen  of  the  early-flowering  jasmine  and  the 
lonicera,  one  of  the  bush  honeysuckles.  The  lonicera 
is  some  fifteen  feet  high  and  as  many  wide,  and  what 
a  treat  it  must  be  to  see  it  full  of  its  cream-colored, 
sweet-scented  flowers !  At  not  a  great  distance  from 
the  house,  placed  singly  here  and  there,  were  some 
bushes  of  the  berry-bearing  prinus  verticellatus. 
These  become  full  of  their  brilliant  holly-like  berries 
in  late  autumn,  when  they  are  much  admired  in  the 
positions  they  are  placed. 

"  Resting  a  while  under  the  shade  of  a  fine  speci- 
men of  the  empress  tree  (pawlonia)  where  seats  had 
been  placed,  I  inquired  its  age,  and  was  informed 
that  it  had  been  planted  nine  years  ago.  The  diam- 
eter of  the  trunk  was  eighteen  inches,  showing  the 
rapidity  of  its  growth. 

"  Mr.  Atkinson  takes  great  interest  in  his  place, 
and  knows  the  history  of  every  tree  and  bush  on  it. 
Every  one  has  been  planted  with  an  object,  and  what 
this  is  he  is  quite  willing  to  explain.  There  are 
various  groupings  of  evergreen  and  deciduous  trees 
designed  to  produce  effect  in  time.  It  will  take  some 
years  for  many  of  the  trees  to  attain  a  size  to  show 
the  combination  of  colors,  but  though  there  are 
younger  men  than  Mr.  Atkinson,  he  is  willing  to 

304 


THE  ORCHARD  WALK 
Farm  buildings  in  the  distance 


BEAUTIFYING  A  LANDSCAPE 

wait  for  the  trees  to  develop,  and  nothing  is  crowded 
to  give  immediate  effect. 

"  I  noticed  a  group  of  scarlet  oaks — kept  in  shrub 
shape  by  pruning — which  I  thought  must  be  a  beau- 
tiful sight  when  the  autumn  colors  are  assumed. 
This  oak  is  a  favorite  on  the  place,  as  is  the  blood- 
leaved  Japanese  maple.  Purple  plum  and  purple 
berberry  are  also  in  evidence. 

"  Mentioning  pruning,  I  was  struck  with  the  im- 
proved appearance  of  a  Kentucky  coffee-tree,  which 
had  been  pruned.  The  young  growth  of  this  tree  is 
of  a  light  green,  a  pleasing  color,  and  the  pruning 
had  brought  out  many  more  than  the  usual  number 
of  shoots,  adding  to  the  good  effect. 

"  One  of  the  features  of  North  View  is  the 
magnificent  hedge  of  berberis  thunbergii.  The  home 
grounds  are  nearly  enclosed  with  it,  some  of  the 
plants  having  been  set  eight  years  ago,  and  some 
later.  There  is  one  stretch  of  it  some  three  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  long,  which  is  about  four  feet  in 
height  and  as  many  in  width,  which  is  the  best  hedge 
of  it  I  have  ever  seen. 

"  The  home  grounds  iead  gradually  to  an  orchard 
and  small  fruit  garden,  in  which  was  an  exceedingly 
fine  collection  of  fruits,  and  adjoining  this  is  the 
farm.  I  could  but  take  a  hurried  walk  through  a 
portion  of  it — enough,  however,  to  cause  me  to  wish 
that  I  could  see  more.  But  time  was  pressing,  and  I 
parted  company  with  the  courteous  proprietor  with 
much  regret." 

I  fear  that  it  would  tire  the  casual  reader  if  I 
pursued  this  subject  further,  but  I  will  call  atten- 
tion to  views  of  our  lawn  shown  on  another  page : 
one,  the  pair  of  posts  at  the  main  entrance,  with  the 
small  vines,  which  in  time  clothed  the  posts  with 
living  green;  also  the  young  scarlet  oak  nearby 
20  305 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

which  grew  so  rapidly  that,  before  we  left  the  place, 
no  one  without  very  long  arms  could  span  its  trunk. 

The  scarlet  oak,  to  my  mind,  has  more  merit  as 
a  lawn  tree  than  any  other.  It  is  very  hardy,  rapid 
in  growth,  has  leaves  of  bright  green  in  the  summer, 
and  in  the  fall  is  robed  in  beautiful  scarlet  foliage 
which  holds  on  until  December.  I  liked  this  variety 
of  oak  so  well  that  I  planted  an  avenue  of  it  the 
whole  length  of  the  farm  down  to  the  lower  pike, 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  away. 

At  the  end  of  about  twenty  years,  although  I 
already  had  over  twelve  acres  of  lawn  grass  (which 
had  to  be  mowed  during  the  flush  season  of  spring 
and  early  summer  once  in  every  five  days),  I  bought 
five  acres  more  of  what  was  the  store  property  in 
the  village,  and  increased  the  size  of  my  lawn  nearly 
to  that  extent.  I  did  not  wish  to  buy  the  ground, 
but  it  was  an  eyesore  in  the  neighborhood,  so  I  had 
to  purchase  it  in  self-defense.  It  belonged  to  the 
keeper  of  the  popular  Three  Tuns  road  house,  who 
wished  the  store  to  be  torn  down ;  and  the  essential 
stipulation  in  the  contract  with  him  was  that,  if  he 
sold  it  to  me,  the  building  must  be  leveled  to  the 
ground.  Immediately  after  the  contract  was  signed 
and  money  paid,  I  hired  twelve  Italians,  who  with 
picks  and  gunpowder  soon  demolished  the  structure, 
whose  cellar,  however,  was  filled  up  with  debris. 
Rich  top  soil  was  carted  and  spread  over  the  site, 
and  most  of  the  five  acres  was  utilized  for  the  exten- 
sion of  my  lawn,  so  I  had  many  more  trees  and 
shrubs  and  flowers  to  buy  and  plant. 

While  the  preceding  account  of  the  planting  at 
North  View  was  fresh  from  my  pen,  I  showed  it 
to  my  family,  whereupon  a  member  made  the  in- 
quiry :  "  Father,  why  did  thee  not  tell  what  tools 
thee  used  in  all  that  planting?" 

306 


THE  THREE  TUNS  LIBRARY  AND  POST  OFFICE 
Built  from  an  original  design  by  Wilmer  Atkinson  in  1907 


BEAUTIFYING  A  LANDSCAPE 

And  I  answered :  "  Why,  the  usual  tools,  of 
course." 

"  Did  thee  mention  the  camp  stool,  the  umbrella 
and  the  cane?" 

"  No ;  I  did  not  think  that  worth  while." 

I  was  not  embarrassed  by  such  questioning,  for 
I  remembered  that  Frank  Shugard  went  around  with 
me  using  other  essential  tools.  It  takes  several 
kinds  of  implements  to  plant  a  tree  in  the  right  place, 
and  the  kind  I  used  did  good  service. 

Elsewhere  I  have  told  the  reader  of  the  removal 
of  our  old  library  to  Ambler,  where  it  was  destroyed 
by  fire.  This  left  our  neighborhood  without  a 
library  and  also  without  a  post  office  building,  for 
when  the  store  was  obliterated  so  also  was  the  post 
office.  I  could  not  stand  for  this,  so  I  erected  a 
small  building  on  the  site  of  the  old  one  and  estab- 
lished a  library  there,  and  made  room  for  the  post 
office,  which  we  did  not  wish  to  lose  from  the  village. 

A  picture  of  the  small  building  whose  design  was 
home-made  will  be  seen  on  another  page.  When 
we  moved  from  North  View  in  1915  the  post  office 
was  summarily  taken  away  and  many  of  the  books 
were  transferred  to  the  Farm  Journal  office  for  the 
use  of  our  employees.  The  library,  when  we  had  it 
in  hand,  comprised  about  six  hundred  volumes,  and 
all  of  them  were  worth  while.  This  is  more  than  can 
be  said  of  the  books  in  many  present-day  libraries. 

So  willing  was  I  to  have  strangers  enjoy  the 
beauty  of  North  View  that  I  extended  an  invita- 
tion to  the  public  to  drive  at  will  through  the  lawn 
and  farm,  from  one  end  to  the  other.  There  were 
no  restrictions  whatever,  and  hundreds  of  persons 
every  week  availed  themselves  of  the  privilege.  A 
report  somehow  got  into  the  local  paper  that 
strangers  were  no  longer  permitted  to  drive  through 

307 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Orchard  Drive,  but  this  was  later  denied  by  me  in 
the  same  paper  that  published  the  erroneous  state- 
ment. I  said :  "  Oh,  no,  the  invitation  to  orderly 
persons,  even  though  strangers,  freely  to  use 
Orchard  Drive  during  the  summer  and  fall  has  not 
been  withdrawn.  If  it  is  a  pleasure  for  our  friends 
and  their  friends  to  drive  through  '  Quinby  Farm ' 
and  North  View,  it  is  no  less  a  pleasure  to  us  to 
see  them  do  so.  Our  grass,  trees  and  flowers  belong 
in  part  to  those  who  have  the  capacity  to  enjoy  them." 

I  will  here  make  my  final  reference  to  our  grand 
old  oak,  a  picture  of  which  is  shown  on  another  page, 
by  quoting  from  a  local  paper  describing  the  cyclone 
which  passed  over  Upper  Dublin  on  August 
eighteenth,  1911,  and  its  consequences  to  the  tree: 
"  The  old  oak  tree  in  the  lane  at  North  View, 
Three  Tuns,  was  completely  wrecked  by  the  tempest 
which  visited  these  parts  on  Friday  afternoon  last. 
Nothing  is  left  standing  but  the  trunk,  the  limbs 
having  been  all  swept  away.  In  falling  there  was  a 
mighty  crash  which  was  heard  a  great  distance. 

"  Upon  the  trunk  there  was  a  bronze  tablet, 
placed  there  a  short  time  ago  by  Mr.  Atkinson, 
bearing  the  legend : 

" '  The  monarch  oak  the  patriarch  of  the  trees, 
Shoots  rising  up  and  spreads  by  slow  degrees. 
Three  centuries  he  grows,  and  three  he  stays 
Supreme  in  state  and  in  three  more  decays' " 

It  was  a  sad  day  at  North  View  when  we 
beheld  our  old  oak  lying  prostrate  upon  the  ground, 
completely  wrecked.  None  of  us  thought  such  a 
catastrophe  could  happen ;  the  tree  was  so  sturdy, 
with  so  little  evidence  of  decay.  I  obtained  testi- 
mony from  some  of  the  oldest  inhabitants,  who  not 
only  remembered  the  tree  in  their  youth  as  standing 

308 


BEAUTIFYING  A  LANDSCAPE 

there  just  as  it  was  before  the  storm  destroyed  it,  but  re- 
called being  told  by  their  ancestors  that  the  tree  had 
been  standing  several  generations  before  their  time,  and 
probably  before  Columbus  discovered  America. 

An  aged  friend  who  was  born  and  lived  on  the 
farm  wrote  a  poem  about  the  tree  before  its  fall 
from  which  I  quote : 

This  bright  June  morn  my  heart  has  wooed 
Awhile  to  pause  in  pensive  mood, 
And  sit  again  within  this  shade, 

So  ample  and  inviting  made. 

****** 

Thou,  old  tree,  invitest  my  song, 
While  memories  dear  around  me  throng. 
Ah !  many  long,  long  years  hast  thou 
Stood  firmly  here  with  rugged  brow, 
And  backward  beat  the  raging  storm 
That  oft  assailed  thy  sturdy  form. 
The  weaker  things  the  winds  may  rock, 
But  thou  the  wildest  storm  canst  mock. 
Thy  strong  roots  pierce  the  earth  so  far 
They  bar  thee  from  e'en  shock  or  jar. 
A  noble  battle  thou  hast  made, 
A  strong  resistant  force  displayed; 
But  lapse  of  time  will  work  decay, 
And  thou  ere  long  must  pass  away. 
Old  tree,  all  hail !    Thou  standest  here 
Without  a  rival  or  compeer, 
The  peers  that  once  around  thee  stood 
Within  the  thick-grown,  primal  wood, 
Are  gone.    And  on  the  lands  thus  shorn 
Now  stands  the  wheat  and  tasseled  corn. 
Farewell,  old  friend !    I  part  from  thee, 
Thou  early  loved,  old  oaken  tree. 

June  8,  1883.  HENRY  J°NES- 

309 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

Our  aged  friend  proved  to  be  a  prophet,  a  truer 
one  than  I,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  tree  was 
likely  to  add  another  century  to  its  august  history. 
Must  I  own  it,  North  View  never  seemed  quite 
the  same  to  me  after  our  noble  tree  could  no  longer 
stand  guard  over  the  old  lane  through  which  I  drove 
our  herd  of  cows  from  Warwick  to  our  new  home  in 
Upper  Dublin  in  1849. 

I  immediately  planted  ivy  around  the  trunk, 
which  was  fifteen  feet  high,  and  before  we  left 
North  View  the  trunk  was  completely  covered 
with  ivy  green.  The  tablet  remains  as  when  first 
placed,  with  another  one  underneath. 


310 


CHAPTER  XXV 
MAKING  OVER  AN  OLD  TURNPIKE  ROAD 

AFTER  establishing  a  country  seat  at  the  village 
of  Three  Tuns,  I  found  that  the  condition  of  the 
roads,  leading  to  the  station  at  the  railroad  town  of 
Ambler,  presented  a  serious  obstacle  to  my  getting 
to  the  city  in  order  to  attend  to  my  business  at  the 
Farm  Journal  office.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  could  not 
get  to  Ambler,  but  it  was  more  or  less  a  trial  both  to 
the  spirit  and  to  the  flesh.  There  was  an  old  pike 
road  that  led  directly  to  the  station — a  distance  of 
two  and  one-half  miles — and  there  was  a  back  coun- 
try dirt  road  which  made  the  distance  to  the  station 
one-half  mile  further.  In  the  spring,  and  after  very 
hard  rains,  the  dirt  road  was  deep  with  mud,  and  in 
dry  weather  it  was  not  less  deep  with  dust.  Only  in 
the  most  favorable  weather  was  it  pleasant  to  drive 
over,  but  we  often  used  it  because  it  was  better  than 
the  pike.  What  was  I  to  do?  Accept  the  conditions 
as  I  found  them  or  remedy  them?  I  did  remedy 
them.  I  sought  out  the  owners  of  the  pike — that  is, 
the  individual  stockholders — and  offered  to  buy  their 
shares  of  stock.  Those  people  were  widely  scat- 
tered, and  I  had  little  time  to  pursue  the  quest  for 
stock ;  so  I  took  a  whole  summer  to  procure  enough 
to  give  me  a  controlling  interest  in  the  road.  The 
shares  had  no  market  value  whatever  at  first,  but 
when  it  was  found  that  I  wanted  them,  and  would 
pay  for  them,  the  price  began  to  rise  and  kept  on 
going  up  until  I  had  secured  sufficient  number  to 
satisfy  my  yearnings.  This  is  a  curious  phenom- 

3" 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

enon,  but  it  applies  to  most  other  things  besides 
shares  of  stock. 

The  annual  meeting  of  the  Turnpike  Company 
was  held  at  Three  Tuns  in  October,  at  which  time 
the  stockholders  elected  me  president.  I  felt  some- 
what elated  at  having  such  honors  thrust  upon  me. 
I  was  also  appointed,  by  the  president,  manager  of 
the  road  from  Three  Tuns  to  Rose  Valley,  on  the 
outskirts  of  Ambler,  where  it  abuts  upon  the  ancient 
stage  road  extending  from  Philadelphia  to  Bethle- 
hem. Over  this  very  stage  road  the  old  Liberty  Bell 
was  hauled  on  its  way  to  safety  at  Allentown  in  1777, 
to  prevent  it  from  falling  into  the  hands  of  the 
British.  The  Worths,  father  and  son,  were  to  man- 
age the  upper  end  above  Three  Tuns,  and  they  did 
good  work.  When  the  management  of  the  lower 
part  of  the  road,  in  which  I  was  vitally  interested, 
was  thus  graciously  handed  over  to  me,  the  middle 
of  the  highway  was  so  washed  and  worn  away  that  it 
formed  a  channel  for  the  flow  of  water.  The  ditches, 
ordinarily  intended  for  that  channel,  were  in  the 
main  choked  up  and  out  of  commission.  There  were 
plenty  of  stones ;  but  having  been  broken  by  sledges 
and  hammers  many  years  before,  they  were  left  so 
large  that  they  made  rough  hauling  for  drivers  of 
farm  wagons,  and  for  those  who  ventured  to  travel 
over  them  with  pleasure  carriages  they  were  a  source 
of  anguish.  Such  an  experiment  was  not  pleasant, 
since  the  stones  were  not  only  large,  but  were  loose 
and  easily  kicked  around. 

Within  a  week  from  the  time  I  had  been  made 
responsible  for  such  conditions,  I  had  a  dozen  men 
and  a  number  of  carts  on  the  road  with  the  purpose 
of  rounding  up  the  middle  and  opening  the  side 
ditches.  There  was  no  money  in  the  treasury  for 
expensive  betterments,  or  any  betterments  at  all, 

312 


MAKING  OVER  AN  OLD  TURNPIKE  ROAD 

so  I  had  to  draw  on  my  own  bank  reserves  for 
funds.  This  I  did  to  the  extent  of  twenty-five  hun- 
dred dollars,  taking  the  company's  notes  for  the 
loan.  Not  having  stones  at  once  available,  I  tried 
an  experiment  of  hauling  in  quarry  sand,  of  which 
there  was  an  abundance  in  the  township,  and  with 
that  I  rounded  up  the  middle  of  the  road.  Had  I 
used  stone  for  a  filler  the  expense  would  have  been 
four  times  greater.  The  sand  cost  but  twenty-five 
cents  a  load  at  the  quarries.  After  I  had  the  sand 
hauled  I  covered  it  all  over  with  a  layer  of  crushed 
stone  brought  from  Mundock  Hill,  two  miles  away. 
This  stone  was  not  satisfactory,  as  it  did  not  break 
into  cubes  and  would  not  pack,  and  therefore  was 
almost  a  dead  loss  to  me.  I  had  no  road  roller,  so  I  em- 
ployed George  Lenhart  to  make  for  me  a  heavy 
four-wheeled  cart,  with  tires  eight  inches  wide, 
which  I  successfully  used  for  years  in  place  of  a 
two-thousand-dollar  road  roller.  When  heavily 
loaded,  the  cart  was  almost  as  good.  The  road-bed 
was  soon  in  fairly  good  condition  for  travel,  but  I 
could  not  hope  that  it  would  stay  so  through  the 
thaws  of  the  late  winter  and  early  spring  months — 
and  it  did  not.  Nevertheless,  there  was  no  further 
need  of  taking  the  back  road  on  the  way  to  business. 
The  turnpike  was  built  by  the  farmers  along  the 
line  in  1850.  Before  that  it  was  a  very  bad  road. 
The  pike  may  have  earned  a  dividend  at  one  time, 
but  had  not  done  so  for  many  years.  I  had  a  hard 
problem  to  solve:  to  rebuild  the  road  and  make  it  a 
popular  highw.y  and  to  provide  dividends  for  the 
stockholders.  It  was  a  cross-country  road  and  no 
cross-country  road  ever  had  paid  a  dividend  out  of 
earnings  in  any  of  the  counties  round  about.  It  took 
five  or  six  years  to  accomplish  my  purpose,  for  there 
was  a  debt  to  be  liquidated  before  the  day  of 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

dividends.  Within  five  or  six  years  the  debt  was 
cleared  off  and  soon  thereafter  the  road  became  a 
regular  dividend  payer  and  so  continued  to  be  until 
taken  over  by  the  public.  It  became,  under  the 
new  title  of  "  Butler  Drive,"  one  of  the  most  popu- 
lar highways  in  Montgomery  county,  a  favorite 
with  automobi lists,  who  are  never  tardy  in  discover- 
ing a  road  that  is  smooth  and  comfortable  to  ride 
over.  It  was  thus  I  lifted  the  embargo  on  travel 
between  Three  Tuns  and  the  railroad  station  at 
Ambler.  I  had  cut  down  the  time  by  fifteen  minutes 
each  way. 

I  used  novel  methods  for  bringing  the  Butler 
Drive  into  public  favor.  I  informed  the  public  that 
they  had  better  go  our  way  and  come  by  the  same 
route.  Here  are  some  items  in  the  local  paper 
that  appeared  from  time  to  time  that  tell  part  of 
the  story : 

"  Wilmer  Atkinson  proposes  to  present  a  box  of 
strawberries  some  day  soon  to  each  driver  of  a 
vehicle  who  goes  through  the  lower  toll-gate.  Real 
nice  ones,  too !  Due  notice  will  be  given  of  the  day. 
Let's  all  go  through." 

"  A  free  distribution  of  strawberries  is  now  going 
on  at  Charley  Pfizenmaier's  toll-gate  on  the  Butler 
Drive.  It  began  several  days  ago  and  will  continue 
while  the  nice  berries  last.  The  driver  of  each 
vehicle  receives  a  quart  and  is  free  to  put  them 
where  they  will  do  the  most  good.  Some  days 
bouquets  are  handed  to  the  ladies  who  pass.  Wilmer 
Atkinson  wishes  everybody  not  only  to  know  how 
smooth  the  Butler  Drive  is,  but  also  to  enjoy  the 
fruits  and  flowers  of  the  season.  And  he  wants 
everybody  to  assist  in  making  this  drive  the  finest 
in  Montgomery  county." 

"  Over  twelve  bushels  of  strawberries  have  been 
314 


MAKING  OVER  AN  OLD  TURNPIKE  ROAD 

handed  out  to  travellers  from  the  lower  toll-gate  on 
the  Butler  Drive  within  the  last  few  days.  It  is  a 
free  distribution  of  this  luscious  fruit  and  will  con- 
tinue daily  throughout  the  berry  season.  The  last 
berries  of  this  crop  are  not  so  large  as  at  the  begin- 
ning, but  the  berries  are  sweeter  and  better." 

"  General  Grant's  mother  was  born  and  brought 
up  in  a  farmhouse  on  the  Butler  Drive." 

"  Sweet  peas  and  the  smiling  face  of  Charles 
Pfizenmaier  are  the  principal  attractions  of  the 
Butler  Drive  toll-gate  at  present." 

"  Take  a  spin  over  the  Butler  Drive  and  you 
will  pronounce  it  one  of  the  finest  roads  in 
the  country." 

"  There  is  some  pleasure  in  riding  over  a  road  like 
Butler  Drive.  Spend  a  few  pennies  and  try  it." 

Not  only  were  the  users  of  Butler  Drive  halted 
at  the  toll-gate  to  pay  a  fee,  but  in  June  were  pre- 
sented with  some  sweet  strawberries  as  per  the 
notice  in  the  paper.  Later  they  were  held  up  and 
handed  parcels  of  choice  peaches  and  other  fruits 
and  occasionally  some  flowers,  all  grown  on  "  Quinby 
Farm."  This  procedure  gave  the  travelers  so  much 
pleasure  that  I  did  not  mind  the  cost,  and  it  did  not 
work  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  stockholders  of  the 
road.  In  fact,  it  was  a  good  move  all  around. 

I  forbear  telling  the  reader  how  many  days  I 
spent  on  that  pike,  directing  the  work  (and  working, 
too).  Here  it  would  appear  like  a  fairy  tale  not 
meant  to  be  believed. 

If  the  president  and  manager  ever  received  a 
salary  for  his  service,  or  if  he  was  ever  reimbursed 
for  the  trees  and  flowering  shrubs  planted  by  the 
roadside  for  shade  and  for  decorative  purposes,  the 
circumstance  has  escaped  his  notice. 

Before  the  road  was  piked  it  was  a  leading  high- 
3i5 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

way  for  up-country  farmers,  many  of  them,  known 
as  "  Pennsylvania  Dutch,"  who  hauled  their  pro- 
duce to  market  in  Philadelphia  and  returned  with 
store  goods  for  merchants  in  their  neighborhoods 
and  with  cloth  for  their  thrifty  women  to  make  into 
garments.  The  venerable  Henry  Jones,  now  de- 
ceased, who,  with  his  three  brothers,  formed  the 
original  company,  informed  the  Ambler  paper  that: 
"  All  through  my  early  life  Butler  Road  was  at 
times  one  of  the  worst  in  the  country.  Farmers 
going  to  market,  and  on  other  occasions,  used  to  go 
with  three  horses  to  its  terminus  at  the  Chestnut 
Hill  and  Springhouse  Turnpike  (now  Rose  Valley), 
where  the  third  horse  was  released  and  sent  back. 
The  hill  just  east  of  the  toll-gate,  opposite  Stout's, 
used  to  abound  with  quicksands  that  rendered  it 
almost  impassable,  as  also  at  other  places.  It  was  this 
condition  of  road  that  led  to  the  construction  of 
the  pike."  Henry  Jones  also  informed  the  Gazette 
that :  "  Thirty  or  forty  men  might  be  seen  in  front 
of  the  hotel  and  sheds  at  Three  Tuns,  closely  packed 
with  German  farmers  from  up-country,  on  their  way 
to  market,  stopping  over  night."  When  the  horses 
were  cared  for,  then  followed  the  scene  described  by 
Wilson,  the  ornithologist :  "  Each  stout,  heavy- 
footed  German  with  wallet  in  hand  sought  the  bar- 
room and  from  those  wallets  came  the  chunks  of 
bacon,  bread,  etc.,  and  were  there  deposited  on  the 
long  table.  A  few  pints  of  beer  were  called  in  and 
then  torrents  of  Dutch  from  every  quarter  came 
forth.  They  slept  on  the  floor  and  on  the  table." 
The  Wilson  mentioned  above,  wrote  a  poem  describ- 
ing his  trip  on  foot  from  Philadelphia,  and  what  he 
saw  at  the  close  of  the  first  day's  travel,  at  Spring- 
house,  as  follows: 

316 


THE  TOLL-GATE  HOUSE  OX  THE  BUTLER  DRIVE 


MAKING  OVER  AN  OLD  TURNPIKE  ROAD 

"  Here  two  long  rows  of  market  folks  were  seen 
Ranged  front  to  front,  the  tables  placed  between 
Where  bags  of  meat,  and  bones,  and  crusts  of  bread, 
And  hunks  of  bacon  all  around  were  spread ; 
One  pint  of  beer  from  lip  to  lip  went  round, 
And  scarce  a  crumb  the  hungry  housedog  found ; 
Torrents  of  Dutch  from  every  quarter  came. 
Pigs,  calves  and  sauer-kraut  the  important  theme, 
While  we,  on  future  plans  revolving  deep, 
Discharged  our  bill  and  straight  retired  to  sleep." 

It  was  on  the  Butler  Drive,  as  I  stated  on  an 
earlier  page,  that  John  Simpson  must  have  driven 
with  his  daughter  Hannah,  who  became  the  mother 
of  Ulysses  Simpson  Grant,  on  the  way  to  Philadel- 
phia, the  starting  point  for  their  long  and  wearisome 
journey  to  Ohio  in  1817.  This  was  thirty- four  years 
before  the  road  was  piked. 

During  the  twenty-five  years  while  the  portion 
of  the  Butler  Drive  below  Three  Tuns  was  under 
my  care  and  management,  I  learned  something  of  a 
practical  nature  in  the  art  of  macadamizing  a  road- 
bed. I  had  to.  What  I  learned  was  this — that  there 
is  no  material  for  the  purpose  of  road  building  equal 
to  trap  rock,  and  that  nothing  is  more  essential  in 
the  process  of  road  building  than  tile  underdraining. 
With  a  depth  of  one  foot  of  trap  rock  (or  with  bot- 
tom six  inches  of  sandstone),  rolled  with  a  heavy 
roller — heavier  than  that  generally  used — and  the 
foundation  thoroughly  tile  underdrained,  a  road  can 
be  made  at  one-half  the  cost  of  another  built  of 
other  material  and  will  need  less  than  one-half  the 
cost  for  annual  repairs. 

The  highway  departments  of  states  where  trap  rock 
can  be  had,  even  though  handicapped  by  long  hauls, 
should  get  wise  in  this  matter  and  not  waste  the  people's 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

money  on  ill-considered,  widely  advertised  experiments. 
To  sum  up,  my  experience  and  observation  have 
taught  me  that  a  perfect  macadamized  road  can  be 
built  thus:  Underdrain  the  bed  with  tile,  both  sides 
for  wide  roads ;  round  up  the  centre ;  roll  with  heavy 
roller ;  place  on  top  a  six-inch  layer  of  sandstone  or 
any  other  hard  crushed  stone ;  on  top  of  that  place  a 
six-inch  layer  of  two-inch  trap  rock ;  then,  with  the 
heaviest  roller  obtainable,  pack  the  metal  down  so 
it  will  stay  there  just  as  it  is  put.  A  road  thus  con- 
structed will  not  rut,  or  cup,  or  wash,  or  dust,  or 
buckle,  or  wear  out  in  my  time  or  yours. 


3i8 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A     SCHOOL     COMMENCEMENT    ADDRESS 
WITH  THE  MERIT  OF  BREVITY 

AT  the  invitation  of  the  principal,  I  delivered  the 
address  at  the  Commencement  of  the  Sunnyside 
School  in  the  opera  house  at  Ambler  on  June  twenty- 
eighth,  1892.  In  reading  it  over  now  it  seems  to  me 
that  what  I  said  contains  such  good  advice  that  I 
cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  include  it  in  this 
book.  The  whole  address  follows : 

"  I  have  been  asked  by  your  Principal  to  address 
a  few  words  to  you  on  this  interesting  occasion. 

"  This  is  an  important  event  to  you,  young  people, 
and  one  you  will  be  likely  to  remember  all  your  lives, 
a  proud  occasion,  and  justly  so,  for  you  have  been 
successful  in  your  studies,  and  proven  yourselves 
worthy  of  the  honors  this  day  bestowed  upon  you. 
You  have  been  attentive,  you  have  been  diligent, 
you  have  been  conscientious,  you  have  done  hard 
and  honest  work,  your  behavior  has  been  such  as  to 
do  credit  to  yourselves  and  give  joy  to  your  teachers 
and  parents ;  you  have,  I  am  told,  '  acted  well  your 
part '  throughout,  and  '  there  the  honor  lies.' 

"  This  is  a  good  beginning.  In  the  race  of  life 
much  depends  upon  the  start  one  makes,  and  you 
have  started  well.  It  remains  now  to  resolve  to  keep 
on  in  the  right  course,  to  turn  not  aside  into  indolent, 
careless  or  indifferent  paths,  to  keep  step  with  the 
highest  aspirations  of  your  hearts,  and  certain  it  is 
you  will  have  honorable  and  successful  careers. 

"  This  might  be  made  the  occasion  of  my  pour- 
ing forth  upon  your  innocent  heads  a  great  amount 

319 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

of  advice  concerning  your  future  conduct,  but  it 
would  make  you  tired,  and  you  would  soon  forget, 
even  if  you  momentarily  noted,  what  I  should  say, 
so  I  will  not  inflict  you,  nor  the  audience,  in  that 
way.  Your  best  plan  for  the  future  is  to  follow  the 
admonitions  of  your  consciences  and  those  given  you, 
from  time  to  time,  by  your  faithful  teachers  and  by 
your  parents,  and  to  emulate  the  example  they  have 
set  you  in  their  daily  lives ;  to  read  good  books  and 
to  avoid  common  or  bad  ones;  to  endeavor  to  do 
good  in  the  world,  without  dreaming  of  doing  some 
wonderful  thing  that  will  make  you  famous;  above 
all  to  be  unselfish.  Avoid  thinking  and  acting  as  if 
'  number  one '  were  the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  exist- 
ence. Other  people  first — yourselves  afterwards. 

"  Of  books  to  read  there  are  many  and  it  is  im- 
portant that  you  do  not  neglect  them.  In  this  re- 
gard you  might  adopt  Emerson's  three  rules : 

"  i.  Never  read  any  book  that  is  not  a  year  old. 

"  2.  Never  read  any  but  famed  books. 

"  3.  Never  read  any  but  what  you  like. 

"  Shakespeare,  '  Paradise  Lost,'  '  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field,'  Boswell's  '  Life  of  Johnson/  Goethe's  '  Faust,' 
'  Sartor  Resartus,'  '  Vanity  Fair,'  '  Ivanhoe,' 
Dickens's  '  Tale  of  Two  Cities,' '  David  Copperfield,' 
George  Eliot,  '  Sketch  Book,'  '  Hypatia,'  '  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,'  Bryce's  '  The  American  Common- 
wealth,' McMaster's  '  History  of  the  People  of  the 
United  States.'  Biographies  of  all  great  and  good 
men  and  women. 

"  These  are  works  that  should  not  be  overlooked 
—of  course,  there  are  many  more — a  good  plan  is  to 
read  some  good  book  each  month  in  the  year. 

"  Above  all  things  do  not  form  the  habit  of  novel 
reading  and  be  sure  to  skip  reports  of  crime  and  evil 
doings  in  the  daily  or  weekly  papers. 

320 


A  COMMENCEMENT  ADDRESS 

" '  Will  you  go  and  gossip  with  your  scullery 
maid  or  your  stable  boy,'  says  Ruskin,  '  when  you 
may  talk  with  Queens  and  Kings?' 

"  One  word  more,  and  this  is  my  best  word — 
avoid  everything  that  has  the  least  flavor  of  gossip 
or  tale-bearing  or  detraction.  Never  speak  ill  of  any- 
one, under  any  circumstances  or  provocation.  If 
you  cannot  speak  well,  speak  not  at  all.  You  may 
forget,  if  you  will,  all  I  have  said  before,  but  try  to 
remember  this.  Adopt  this  for  the  motto  of  your 
lives,  and  rest  assured  that  you  honor  yourself  by 
so  doing,  and  all  who  know  you  will  be  proud  of 
your  friendship. 

"  I  wish  you  well  and  bid  you  adieu." 


ai 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

TRAVEL 

MY  instinct  for  travel  was  strong,  but  was  sup- 
pressed until  after  I  was  forty  years  of  age. 

During  the  Civil  War  I  made  three  journeys  at 
the  expense  of  my  Uncle  Samuel,  once  on  foot  when 
my  regiment  of  Pennsylvania  emergency  men  chased 
the  invading  Confederate  army  back  into  Virginia 
after  the  Battle  of  Antietam ;  again  on  horseback,  as 
a  private  in  the  ranks  of  the  Wissahickon  cavalry, 
after  the  Battle  of  Gettysburg,  when  we  once  more 
drove  General  Lee's  legions  back  across  the  border ; 
yet  again,  a  year  later,  when  our  regiment  was 
selected  by  General  Grant  to  guard  a  camp  of  Con- 
federate prisoners  and  hold  them  fast  on  the  upper 
Mississippi,  while  Sherman  marched  through 
Georgia.  Details  of  these  travels  were  given  on 
earlier  pages  of  this  book.  When  I  was  a  young 
man  I  did  not  journey  on  my  own  account  because 
I  did  not  have  the  time,  nor  could  I  afford  the  expense. 

In  1868  I  visited  Washington  with  my  wife  on 
our  belated  wedding  journey.  We  had  been  married 
two  years  earlier.  I  do  not  remember  ever  having 
visited  the  city  of  New  York  before  that  trip  to 
Washington.  I  did  go  once  to  Atlantic  City  with 
my  uncle  John  and  saw  little  but  the  ocean,  mos- 
quitoes, scrub  pines  and  sand  heaps.  I  should  have 
bought  some  lots  then  on  the  ocean  front,  but  it  did 
not  occur  to  me.  I  went  once  on  a  day  excursion  to 
Mauch  Chunk  and  rode  over  the  switch-back  railroad. 

At  an  earlier  time  two  of  my  school  mates  and 
the  headmaster  of  the  school  and  I  took  a  vacation 

322 


TRAVEL 

tramp,  carrying  our  knap-sacks  strapped  across  our 
shoulders.  We  were  all  good  walkers  except  pos- 
sibly myself;  our  leader,  master  Hugh  Foulke,  was 
famous  for  the  rapidity  and  length  of  his  strides ;  he 
seemed  not  to  tire  and  never  complained  of  anything. 
Others  of  us  were  not  so  fortunate.  The  first  day 
brought  us  to  Quakertown  and  the  second  to  Mauch 
Chunk.  I  think  we  stopped  over  at  Bethlehem  and 
took  dinner  at  the  old  Sun  Inn.  This  is  the  hos- 
telry where  General  Lafayette  went  to  recuperate 
after  being  wounded  in  the  foot  at  the  Battle  of 
Brandywine.  The  third  day  found  my  feet  pretty 
sore,  but  we  kept  on  over  a  stony,  mountain  trail, 
traveling  part  of  the  way  after  nightfall  to  White 
Haven,  which  we  did  not  reach  until  bedtime.  The 
next  day  we  arrived  at  Wilkesbarre;  the  next 
brought  us  to  Scranton.  I  think  that  was  as  far 
away  from  home  as  we  went  on  the  trip. 

On  the  return  journey  we  trudged  to  Strouds- 
burg  on  Sunday  morning,  foot-sore  and  travel- 
stained.  Near  Stroudsburg  was  Highland  Dell,  a 
boarding-house  kept  by  a  Quaker  lady,  a  cousin  of 
our  headmaster.  She  received  us  cordially,  had 
breakfast  prepared  for  us,  and,  seeing  without  a 
spy-glass  that  we  needed  washing,  directed  us  to  the 
basement  where  were  some  towels  and  one  tub  of 
water.  This  was  the  first  good  wash  we  had  since 
leaving  home.  After  it,  we  felt  better  and  were 
grateful  to  the  kind  lady.  On  Monday  morning  we 
walked  to  Delaware  Water  Gap  where  we  stayed 
over  night.  I  found  the  next  morning  that  I  had 
had  enough  as  I  was  foot-sore  and  more  than  ready 
to  go  home;  and  this  I  did  by  train.  The  others, 
so  far  as  I  know,  completed  the  journey  on  foot.  It 
was  an  interesting  tramp  and  remembered  with 
pleasure  ever  since. 

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WILMER  ATKINSON 

As  a  boy  on  the  Wanvick  farm  I  did  not  have 
much  experience  as  a  traveler.  I  made  several 
journeys  by  carriage  to  grandfather's,  five  miles 
away.  Once  when  three  years  old,  as  I  have  related, 
I  ran  away  home  with  my  sister  Emma,  who  sug- 
gested and  promoted  the  secret  flight. 

When  seven  I  was  commandeered  to  take  a  plow- 
share to  Jamison's  corner,  one  and  one-quarter  miles 
distant,  to  have  it  sharpened ;  this  was  in  the  spring 
of  the  year  after  I  had  just  shed  my  winter  shoes, 
so  that  the  going  was  easy  and  to  run  a  delight.  I 
remember  that  I  tried  to  run  all  the  way  without  a 
rest,  but  I  could  not  quite  accomplish  the  feat. 
After  running  more  than  one-half  of  the  distance  I 
had  to  stop  to  walk  and  take  breath ;  then  soon 
started  again  into  a  run.  A  barefoot  boy  likes  to 
run  and  the  exercise  is  good  for  him. 

On  the  Upper  Dublin  farm  I  did  considerable 
traveling  behind  a  pair  of  horses  which  were  pull- 
ing an  implement  called  a  plow.  I  would  travel 
across  the  field  in  one  direction,  holding  on  to  the 
plow  handles,  and  then  turn  and  go  back  across  the 
field,  not  exactly  over  the  same  ground  but  close  to 
it.  I  liked  these  trips,  though  I  got  very  weary  be- 
fore eleven-thirty,  when  mother  blew  the  horn,  an- 
nouncing that  dinner  was  ready.  That  was  a 
soulful  sound. 

Early  in  April,  1903,  while  sitting  at  the  break- 
fast table,  in  our  city  home,  I  casually  remarked  to 
my  family,  "  Let's  go  to  Europe,"  and  there  was 
not  a  dissenting  voice  to  that  unexpected  proposal. 

It  was  on  May  sixth  that  my  family — Anna, 
Elizabeth,  Emily,  Gertrude  and  myself — set  sail  on 
the  S.  S.  New  York  on  the  American  line  for  Eng- 
land. We  arrived  at  Southampton  on  May 
thirteenth  and  went  on  to  London,  whither  our 

324 


STONEHENGE,  ENGLAND.  AND  FAMILY  GROUP 


TRAVEL 

train  was  drawn  by  an  absurd  little  locomotive,  and 
where,  in  due  time,  we  arrived.  Here,  after  getting 
settled  at  the  Kingsley  Hotel,  we  engaged  a  German 
woman  guide,  but,  not  being  very  well  pleased  with 
our  choice,  soon  dismissed  her.  She  was  too  dicta- 
torial and  critical  of  the  sights  of  the  city. 

It  would  not  interest  the  reader  for  me  to  give 
in  detail  our  itinerary  through  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland ;  and  it  is  enough  to  say  that  we  visited  all 
the  cathedral  towns,  beginning  with  Salisbury  and 
ending  with  Lincoln.  The  cathedrals  we  saw  were 
very  interesting,  for  they  were  new  to  us.  Besides 
Salisbury  the  tour  took  in  Bath,  Bristol,  Hereford, 
Chester,  Dublin,  Manchester,  Lancaster,  Edinburgh, 
Newcastle,  Durham,  York,  Birmingham,  Oxford 
and  more  of  London. 

Near  Bristol  we  visited  the  village  of  Chew 
Magna,  the  home  of  my  wife's  ancestors.  At  Lan- 
caster we  inspected  the  jail  where  my  ancestor 
William  Atkinson  and  his  brother  Christopher  were 
imprisoned  for  attending  a  Quaker  meeting.  And 
we  visited  the  nearby  village  of  Scotford,  where  my 
respected  forbears  lived  before  their  emigration  in 
1699;  also  Swarthmore  Hall,  famed  as  the  home  of 
Margaret  Fell,  a  convert  to  the  doctrines  preached 
by  George  Fox,  who,  moreover,  became  his  wife 
after  the  death  of  her  first  husband.  We  went  to 
Edinburgh,  visited  the  home  of  Sir  Walter  Scott 
not  far  away,  and  going  south  spent  two  days  in  the 
Shakespeare  country,  and  one  in  the  university  town 
of  Oxford. 

Just  six  weeks  after  we  reached  England,  we 
left  London  for  Paris  and  remained  in  Paris  for  a 
fortnight  at  the  pension  of  a  friend.  Then  we  went 
to  Switzerland  and  Italy,  reaching  the  fascinating 
city  of  Venice  on  July  nineteenth.  Here  we  stayed 

325 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

two  weeks  and  then  journeyed  northward  through 
the  Tyrol  to  Munich,  Nuremburg,  Dresden  and 
Berlin,  where  we  arrived  on  August  fourth.  Here 
we  remained  four  days  only,  one  reason  for  our  not 
staying  longer  being  the  fact  that  the  ladies  did  not 
like  to  be  jostled  off  the  sidewalk  into  the  street 
whenever  they  met  a  military  ruffian,  as  they  not 
infrequently  were.  We  did  not  see  Wilhelm,  but  we 
did  see  his  Potsdam  Palace.  The  lawn  around  the 
palace  was  not  well  kept,  and  looked  very  shabby 
and  forlorn  compared  with  that  of  North  View. 

Leaving  Berlin  we  went  by  rail  to  Frankfort  and 
on  to  Wiesbaden,  Mainz,  Bingen  and  down  the 
Rhine,  reaching  Cologne  on  August  thirteenth. 
Thence  we  journeyed  to  Brussels,  visiting  and 
climbing  the  Napoleon  mound  at  Waterloo  (the 
women  of  Belgium  hauled  the  soil  for  it  for  eight 
cents  a  day) ;  thence  we  went  to  Antwerp  and  Ams- 
terdam, where  we  saw  the  diamond  cutters  at  work ; 
thence  to  the  interesting  villages  of  Marken  and 
Edam,  reaching  the  city  of  The  Hague  on  August 
twenty-fourth.  On  the  twenty-ninth  we  sailed  for 
home  on  the  S.  S.  Finland  of  the  Red  Star  Line. 

Since  none  of  the  family  had  ever  been  to  Europe 
before,  the  trip  was  greatly  enjoyed  by  all  and  we 
had  kept  well.  Gertrude  was  busy  with  her  kodak 
at  every  place  we  stopped,  and  also  kept  a  diary, 
recording  every  detail  of  our  trip.  Those  were  one 
hundred  and  fifteen  days  of  unalloyed  happiness. 
They  afforded  me  a  good  rest  from  my  labors  at  the 
editorial  desk  and  at  "  Quinby  Farm,"  and  they 
afforded  much  refreshment  to  each  member  of 
the  family. 

On  January  nineteenth,  1907,  we  started  on  our 
second  trip  to  Europe,  sailing  on  the  S.  S.  Celtic  of 
the  White  Star  Line,  stopping  at  the  Azores,  Madeira, 

326 


TEMPLE  OF  KARXAK,  LUXOR,  EGYPT 


TRAVEL 

Gibraltar  and  Genoa,  and  arriving  at  Naples  on 
February  third.  As  Anna  had  been  taken  ill  with 
influenza  during  the  voyage,  the  family  did  not  dis- 
embark ;  but  instead  I  went  into  the  city  and  called 
at  the  White  Star  office,  to  see  if  we  might  not 
retain  our  staterooms  and  extend  our  voyage  to 
Egypt.  The  answer  was  we  might,  and  that  was 
what  we  did.  This  was  a  great  relief  to  our  minds, 
for  we  thought  it  hazardous  for  Anna  to  risk  the 
climate  of  Naples  at  that  chilly  season.  We  had  a 
pleasant  voyage  to  Alexandria  and  by  the  time  of  our 
arrival  the  sick  one  had  recovered.  We  reached 
Alexandria  on  the  eighth  and  Cairo  on  the  evening 
of  the  same  day.  We  remained  a  week  at  Cairo  and 
then  went  by  train  up  the  Nile  to  Luxor,  where  we 
spent  a  very  interesting  week  visiting  the  temple  of 
Karnak  and  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings,  ten  miles  away. 
We  rode  on  the  backs  of  donkeys  and  were  pestered 
with  flies  on  the  way.  Flies  in  Egype  are  more 
than  abundant.  One  must  go  veiled  in  Luxor  and 
keep  constantly  brushing  away  the  pests.  The  Tombs 
consisted  of  large  chambers  twenty  feet  under- 
ground whose  various  apartments  were  all  lit  up  by 
electricity.  I  did  not  believe  that  electric  lights 
were  in  evidence  in  those  subterranean  apartments 
when  the  kings  were  buried ;  but  to  be  sure  of  it  I 
questioned  the  janitor  of  one  of  the  Tombs  and  was 
told  that  he  did  not  think  they  had  been.  We  could 
see  the  mummified  kings  lying  where  they  were  put 
four  thousand  years  ago,  and  I  felt  like  poking  one 
of  them  with  my  cane  and  telling  him :  "  It  is  time  to 
get  up,"  but  I  could  not  quite  reach  him. 

By  the  twenty-fourth  we  were  back  at  Cairo  and 
Alexandria,  and  on  March  first  we  sailed  for  Athens, 
arriving  on  the  third  and  staying  until  the  eleventh. 

We  went  by  train  from  Athens  to  Patras.  Our 
327 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

way  lay  parallel  to  the  old  road  from  Athens  to 
Rome  and  passed  through  Corinth.  It  was  the  road 
over  which  Paul  trudged  on  his  way  to  the  latter 
city.  From  Patras  we  took  a  ramshackle  boat  to 
Brindisi ;  the  sea  was  rough  and  by  this  time  Anna 
and  I  were  ill  with  "  La  Grippe  "  and  could  not  take 
the  side  trip  to  the  Island  of  Corfu  as  some  of  the 
family  did.  Those  who  made  the  side  trip  were 
interested  in  seeing  the  Royal  Palace  which  was 
later  bought  by  Kaiser  Wilhelm  for  a  country  home, 
but  which  he  is  not  now  able  to  occupy  either  in 
summer  or  in  winter. 

Since  the  vessel  was  delayed,  we  did  not  reach 
Brindisi  in  time  to  catch  the  express  to  Naples. 
From  Brindisi  to  Naples  it  is  a  long  ride,  especially 
if  one  goes  by  accommodation  train.  Moreover,  we 
had  to  cross  the  Appenine  mountains  where  a  fierce 
snow  storm  was  raging,  so  that  we  were  nearly 
frozen  stiff  because  we  did  not  have  heat  in  our  car 
and  were  without  sufficient  wraps.  The  two  sick 
ones,  however,  improved,  but  Elizabeth  became  ill. 
In  fact,  she  was  so  sick  that  at  Naples  she  could  not 
leave  the  hotel  at  all ;  but  the  others  of  the  party, 
during  our  stay  in  Naples,  visited  Pompeii,  Sorrento 
and  Capri,  before  starting  for  Rome  on  March 
twenty-second.  At  Rome  we  remained  for  about 
four  weeks,  and  visited  Tivoli  and  Hadrian's  Villa, 
the  Forum,  the  Catacombs,  and  of  course  all  the 
other  places  of  interest  in  the  ancient,  imperial  city. 

On  April  seventeenth  we  began  a  tour  through 
Italy,  halting  at  Assisi,  Perugia,  Florence,  Genoa, 
Pisa,  then  at  Nice  and  at  Monte  Carlo,  where  we 
witnessed  gambling  in  full  swing  among  daft 
mortals.  We  reached  Paris  on  May  sixteenth  and 
London  on  the  twenty-fourth,  sailing  for  home  on 
the  Adriatic  on  June  fifth.  The  tour  was  a  most  en- 

328 


THE  PRISON  OF  SOCRATES  AT  ATHENS 


TRAVEL 

joyable  one,  I  might  say  a  fascinating  one,  our  only 
regret  being  that  we  could  not  visit  Sweden  and 
Norway,  St.  Petersburg,  Copenhagen,  Vienna,  the 
cities  of  the  Baltic  States,  and,  finally,  Constantinople. 

I  am  sorry  that  I  may  not  write  more  fully  of 
the  many  pleasant  experiences  of  our  journey  and 
tell  in  more  detail  about  the  places  we  visited.  On 
this  trip,  as  on  the  former  one,  Gertrude  kept  snap- 
ping her  camera  on  every  suitable  occasion  (and 
sometimes,  perhaps,  when  the  occasion  was  not  suit- 
able), and  kept  a  diary  which  now  tells  where  we 
went,  what  we  saw,  whom  we  met  and  what  we  did. 
It  would  be  interesting  now  to  read  her  account 
over,  though  if  we  did  so  we  might  become  inocu- 
lated once  more  with  the  travel  microbe. 

Elizabeth  and  I  started  on  another  voyage  to 
England  on  May  eighth,  1909,  for  rest  and  recupera- 
tion, sailing  on  the  Baltic  for  Liverpool,  giving  our 
time  for  two  months  mostly  to  London,  but  taking 
side  trips  from  there.  We  went  to  Tunbridge  Wells, 
Brighton,  Canterbury,  Glastonbury,  Oxford,  Eaton, 
Isle  of  Wight,  Bath,  Exeter,  Ilfracombe  and  Clov- 
elly,  and  spent  a  pleasant  fortnight  on  the  Islands 
of  Jersey  and  Guernsey,  going  by  stage  coach  from 
point  to  point.  Amongst  our  companions  on  the 
islands  were  a  Hanoverian  gentleman  and  his  two 
vivacious  daughters.  We  were  away  from  home  for 
about  nine  weeks.  I  had  my  camera  with  me  and 
took  many  pictures. 

Four  years  later  Elizabeth  and  I  visited  the 
Canadian  Rocky  mountains,  traveling  thence  to 
Tacoma  and  Seattle  on  our  way  to  Alaska,  and  re- 
turning home  by  the  Yellowstone  Park.  The  voy- 
age to  Alaska  from  Victoria  was  very  interesting. 
During  the  trip  we  climbed  Muir  Glacier  and  escaped 
a  cold  death  by  not  falling  into  the  gaping  crevasses. 

329 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

I  took  a  picture  of  the  Taku  Glacier  which  appears 
on  another  page ;  also  of  our  steamer,  which  I 
snapped  on  returning  from  the  Muir  Glacier.  These 
appear  on  the  same  page.  Our  ship  was  the  Spo- 
kane, which  has  since  met  disaster  by  running  against 
a  rock  in  that  uncharted  sea.  We  went  from 
Seattle  direct  to  Ketchikan,  a  distance  of  twelve 
hundred  miles,  on  a  smooth  inland  sea.  On  this 
voyage  I  was  entertained  by  one  of  my  pets — a  car- 
buncle on  my  neck — and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
skillful  attention  of  a  surgeon  from  Los  Angeles, 
California,  who  was  with  us,  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
would  be  here  to  tell  the  story  or  write  this  book. 

I  went  with  my  wife  to  New  Orleans  at  the 
time  of  the  Mardi  Gras,  and  while  there  I  visited  the 
ill-fated  warship  Maine  then  stationed  out  on  the  river. 
Two  years  later  I  saw  the  pathetic  remains  of  it  in 
the  Harbor  of  Havana.  Still  later  I  visited  Cuba 
with  Elizabeth.  I  had  made  several  visits  to  the 
South  before  this,  as  well  as  numerous  visits  to 
various  other  states  of  the  Union. 

So,  though  my  instinct  for  travel  was  not  ap- 
peased before  I  was  forty  years  of  age,  I  have  since 
"  gone  some  "  and  seen  much.  I  do  not  now  care 
for  more  travel,  although  I  would  not  refuse  out- 
ings such  as  I  have  had  if  they  were  to  new  coun- 
tries and  were  offered  me  free  of  expense,  and  void 
of  the  bother  of  attendance  upon  details,  and  were 
my  wife  willing  to  travel  again — which  condition 
is  unlikely. 

Some  of  the  high  lights  of  my  travel  experiences 
do  not  appear  in  the  above  brief  outline,  but  I  may 
venture  to  mention  some  of  them.  On  our  voyage 
over  on  the  New  York  we  observed  opposite  us  a 
vessel  speeding  along  rather  faster  than  we  were 
going.  Evidently  its  captain  meant  to  overtake  us; 

330 


IN  THE  DOORWAY  OF  A  GARDEN  AT  ST.  AUBIN. 
ON  THE  ISLAND  OF  JERSEY 


TRAVEL 

and  he  did  so.  He  cut  right  in  ahead  of  us,  crossing 
our  path  and  requiring  our  captain  to  slow  up  to 
prevent  our  running  into  him.  It  was  the  Deutsch- 
land,  showing  the  polite  and  considerate  nature  of 
its  Teuton  captain. 

While  in  London  we  went  to  the  opening  of  the 
famous  Kew  Bridge,  at  which  time  there  was  a  vast 
outpouring  of  people.  King  Edward  may  have  heard 
that  we  were  to  be  there;  at  any  rate,  he  himself 
was  there  and  we  saw  him  and  the  queen  riding  in 
an  open  carriage.  We  were  on  the  top  of  a  stage- 
coach, so  could  obtain  a  good  view  of  his  kingship 
and  his  lady.  They  did  not  see  us;  or,  if  they  did, 
they  gave  no  sign.  One  jubilant  Londoner,  as  the 
king  rode  into  view  shouted :  "  There's  the  old  boy !  " 
to  the  amusement  of  his  hearers. 

In  London  we  saw  the  house  in  which  our  enemy 
in  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  George  III,  lived 
while  the  conflict  was  raging  in  America — raging 
chiefly  because  his  High  Mightiness  was  a 
stubborn  king. 

In  the  room  in  Westminster  Abbey  where  the 
dead  bodies  of  royalty  are  interred,  we  viewed  the 
spot  where  Cromwell's  body  was  dug  up,  to  be 
mutilated  and  carried  away,  the  head  cut  off,  stuck 
on  a  pike  and  fastened  at  the  peak  of  Westminster 
Hall  nearby.  Just  at  that  time  his  memory  was  not 
cherished  in  England  as  it  is  now.  His  statue  now 
stands  alongside  the  Houses  of  Parliament;  and  there 
is  also  one  in  Manchester.  We  visited  Whitehall 
and  gazed  at  the  window  through  which  Charles  I 
walked  to  his  death.  At  Bunhill  Fields  we  saw  the 
modest  headstone  above  the  resting  place  of  George 
Fox.  The  stone,  about  two  and  one-half  feet  high, 
leans  considerably  from  the  perpendicular.  At  Jor- 
dans,  a  few  miles  out  of  London,  we  saw  the  grave 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

of  William  Penn,  also  marked  by  a  simple  headstone. 

When  at  Salisbury  we  visited  Stonehenge  nearby 
and  took  a  snapshot  of  those  ancient  and  Druid- 
memorial  rocks,  which  may  be  seen  on  another  page. 

We  visited  Abbotsford,  the  home  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  and  also  his  grave  at  Dryburgh  Abbey ;  and 
we  viewed  the  spot  where  was  buried  the  heart  of 
Bruce,  the  Scottish  chief.  I  wondered  if  it  was  still 
there  and  had  doubt  about  it. 

Being  a  member  of  the  Atlantic  Union  we  were 
invited  to  several  functions  in  and  near  London  pre- 
pared for  the  entertainment  of  visitors  from  the 
English  colonies  and  the  United  States.  We  made 
a  number  of  delightful  acquaintances  of  whom  we 
have  heard  since  by  correspondence,  and  whom  to 
know  is  to  regard  with  esteem  and  respect. 

In  front  of  the  Charing  Cross  Railroad  Station 
on  the  Strand  was  a  little  office  on  the  edge  of  the 
street  where  an  old  man  sat  whose  business  it  was  to 
change  for  travelers,  giving  coins  of  one  country  for 
those  of  another.  I  observed  that  he  had  stacked  up 
on  his  counter  a  large  number  of  American  gold 
dollars  which  I  knew  were  scarce  on  our  side  of  the 
great  deep  where  they  were  at  a  considerable 
premium.  I  bought  a  dozen  of  them  at  one  dollar 
and  twenty-five  cents  a  piece.  This  was  in  1903.  I 
brought  them  home,  put  them  away,  and  forgot  about 
them  for  a  time.  I  looked  them  over  before  our 
second  voyage  to  London  in  1907  and  when  I  reached 
Charing  Cross  I  found  the  money  changer  still  at  his 
post.  I  had  previously  discovered  that  the  old  fel- 
low had  slipped  in,  along  with  the  rest,  four  or  five 
that  were  clipped  or  had  holes  punched  or  bored  in 
them.  Of  course  I  handed  them  back,  demanded 
good  ones  in  exchange  and  obtained  them.  He  did 
not  demur  and  tumbled  to  the  occasion.  I  thought 

332 


TRAVEL 

he  recognized  some  old  friends  in  the  mutilated 
coins  that  he  had  not  seen  for  four  years  and  hoped 
he  would  never  see  again.  One  of  those  he  handed 
me  in  place  of  the  mutilated  ones  was  dated  1862, 
which  was  the  year  I  left  the  farm  to  go  into  the 
publishing  business  at  Norristown,  fifty-eight  years 
ago.  I  had  the  coin  made  into  a  fob,  and  am  now 
wearing  it  on  my  watch  chain. 

We  were  in  Dublin  at  Whitsuntide,  and  found  it 
a  boisterous  place  where  many  hilarious  men  and 
women  came  driving  into  town  towards  evening  in 
jaunting  cars,  thrashing  the  horses  to  make  them 
gallop  as  they  returned  from  some  afternoon  gaiety 
in  the  country.  But  we  met  many  pleasant,  sober 
people  in  Dublin  the  next  day. 

At  Swarthmore  Hall  we  saw  the  window  in  which 
George  Fox  frequently  stood  while  preaching  to  the 
eager  multitudes  who  came  to  hear  him. 

At  Naples  the  odor  from  goats'  milk  and  butter 
seemed  much  in  evidence,  not  only  at  table,  but 
everywhere  in  the  streets.  It  was  all-pervading.  I 
couldn't  stand  it.  I  have  since  been  informed  that 
when  goats  are  fed  on  grass  and  grain  in  the  coun- 
try, and  do  not  have  to  pick  up  a  livelihood  in  a 
dirty  city,  their  milk  and  butter  are  not  flavored  like 
those  of  the  goats  in  Naples.  I  trust  this  is  true. 

We  were  at  Venice  shortly  after  the  Campanile 
tumbled  over,  and  the  debris  was  boarded  off  so  it 
could  not  be  seen  from  the  street.  This  famous 
structure  was  begun  in  888,  rebuilt  in  1329,  provided 
with  a  marble  top  in  1417,  and  crowned  with  a  figure  of 
an  angel,  nearly  sixteen  feet  high,  in  1517,  and  toppled 
over  in  1902.  It  has  been  rebuilt  since  that. 

At  Charlottenburg,  Berlin,  we  visited  the  tomb 
of  Queen  Louise.  The  beautiful  sarcophagus  which 
holds  her  remains  was  rifled  recently  and  the  jewels 

333 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

carried  off.  Her  memory  is  cherished  by  the  Ger- 
man people  because  she  was  such  an  implacable 
enemy  of  Napoleon  when  he  ran  amuck  through 
Germany  and  entered  Berlin. 

In  Rome  we  visited  the  old  Senate  Chamber 
where  the  great  Caesar  was  stabbed  to  death  by 
Casca,  Cassius,  the  treacherous  Brutus  and  the 
other  conspirators. 

"  Look !  in  this  place,  ran  Cassius'  dagger  through. 
See,  what  a  rent  the  envious  Casca  made : 
Through  this  the  well-beloved  Brutus  stabb'd." 

At  Frankfort  we  stopped  at  the  hotel  where 
Bismarck  met  the  French  commissioners  to  settle 
the  terms  of  peace  after  the  war  of  1870-1871.  We 
were  shown  the  room  in  which  the  meeting  was 
held  and  in  which  the  harsh  terms  were  acquiesced 
in  by  the  helpless  French  representatives. 

At  Cairo  we  were  shown  the  mummy  of  Rameses 
II,  so  called,  one  of  the  Pharaohs.  In  Switzerland 
we  visited  the  home  town  of  William  Tell,  and  were 
shown  the  spot  where  Father  William  shot  the  apple 
off  his  son's  head. 

In  Holland,  since  the  Queen  was  away  on  a 
vacation,  we  were  shown  through  the  palace,  in- 
cluding the  dining-room,  and  were  told  where 
Wilhelmina  sat  at  the  table.  In  turn  we  sat  where 
the  Queen  lady  was  accustomed  to  sit,  when  at  home, 
to  take  her  food.  She  was  then  a  stout,  short  per- 
son with  a  pleasant  countenance.  She  is  older  now, 
like  the  rest  of  us.  Inasmuch  as  she  was  short 
while  her  husband  was  tall,  her  chair  had  longer 
legs  in  order  that  she  might  appear  taller  while  at 
the  table. 

Before   arriving  at   Brindisi  in   Italy  the  boat 

334 


TRAVEL 

rocked  badly,  and  we  became  seasick — at  least  I  did. 
At  the  landing  station  we  had  breakfast,  but  were 
not  feeling  well  enough  to  enjoy  it,  since  the  eggs 
were  far  from  fresh,  and  the  coffee  and  other  edibles 
not  to  our  liking,  though  we  had  not  eaten  anything 
for  many  hours.  I  imagine  that  when  Julius  Caesar 
brought  his  troops  over  the  Appian  Way  from  Rome 
to  Brindisium  on  his  way  to  battle  against  the  con- 
spirators at  Pharsalia,  in  Greece,  who  tried  to  over- 
throw him,  his  quartermaster  must  have  lost  some 
eggs  on  the  way,  and  it  was  one  of  those  I  had  for 
breakfast.  While  at  breakfast  a  commotion  arose 
in  the  dining  salon,  caused  by  something  I  did  not 
comprehend.  In  due  time  I  learned  that  a  lady  had 
lost  her  handbag  containing  a  valuable  pearl  neck- 
lace, and  was  searching  for  it  everywhere  and  mak- 
ing a  rumpus.  She  sat  next  to  me  at  the  table.  I 
was  busy  eating  and  took  no  notice  of  the  disturb- 
ance ;  at  least  I  paid  no  attention  to  it,  but  on  aris- 
ing from  the  table  the  precious  lost  handbag  was 
found  on  my  chair  and  I  had  been  sitting  on  it.  The 
lady  had  placed  it  there.  I  had  never  sat  upon  a  pearl 
necklace  before — nor  have  I  since. 


335 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

GENESIS  OF  THE  WOMAN'S  RIGHTS 
MOVEMENT 

IN  1648,  early  in  his  ministry,  George  Fox  attended 
a  church  meeting  in  Leicester  where  a  number  of 
persons  had  met  for  the  discussion  of  religious  ques- 
tions; a  great  crowd  was  there  and  after  much  dis- 
cussion a  woman  timidly  arose  and  asked  a  question 
as  to  what  Peter  meant  by  "  being  born  again  of  in- 
corruptible seed,  by  the  word  of  God  which  liveth 
and  abideth  forever." 

In  response  to  her  innocuous  question  one  of  the 
ministers  gave  answer,  as  related  by  George  Fox: 
"  I  permit  not  a  woman  to  speak  in  the  church." 
"  Whereupon,"  wrote  George  Fox,  "  I  was  wrapped  up 
as  in  rapture  in  the  Lord's  power;  and  I  stepped  up 
in  a  place  and  I  asked,  '  Dost  thou  call  this  place  a 
church,  or  dost  thou  call  this  mixed  multitude  a 
church?'  For  the  woman  asking  a  question,  he 
ought  to  have  answered  it,  having  given  liberty  for 
any  to  speak.  But  he  did  not  answer  me  neither, 
but  asked  me  what  a  church  was.  I  told  him  the 
church  was  the  pillar  and  ground  of  truth,  made  up 
of  living  stones,  living  members,  a  spiritual  house- 
hold, which  Christ  was  the  head  of ;  but  he  was  not 
the  head  of  a  mixed  multitude,  or  of  an  old  house 
made  up  of  lime,  stone  and  wood.  This  set  them 
all  on  fire." 

It  appears  not  only  to  have  set  them  all  on  fire, 
but  it  moved  George  Fox  "  by  the  same  Christ 
power  to  set  up  women's  meetings  that  all,  both 

336 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  MOVEMENT 

male  and  female,  might  act  for  God  in  the  power  and 
do  business  and  service  for  Him  in  the  church." 

"  At  Wiltshire,"  Fox  wrote  in  his  journal,  "  we 
had  a  very  good  meeting,  though  we  met  there  with 
much  opposition  from  some  who  had  set  themselves 
against  women's  meetings,  which  I  was  moved  of 
the  Lord  to  recommend  to  Friends  for  the  benefit  of 
the  church  of  Christ.  That  the  women,  being  made 
heirs  of  the  same  salvation  as  the  men  are,  might 
come  into  the  practice  of  gospel  order  and  therein 
be  meet-helps  unto  the  men  in  the  service  of  Truth, 
as  they  are  in  civil  and  temporal  things ;  that  so  all 
the  family  of  God,  both  women  and  men,  might  dis- 
charge their  offices  in  the  house  of  God  whereby  the 
poor  might  be  better  looked  after  and  taken  care  of; 
the  younger  sort  taught  in  the  way  of  God,  and  the 
loose  and  disorderly  reproved  and  admonished  in  the 
fear  of  the  Lord ;  the  clearance  of  persons  propound- 
ing marriage  more  closely  and  strictly  inquired  into 
in  the  wisdom  of  God;  that  all  the  members  of  the 
spiritual  body,  the  church,  might  watch  over  and  be 
helpful  to  each  other  in  love." 

Here  we  have  the  germ  of  the  movement  for 
woman's  equality  of  rights  with  men,  for  Fox  pro- 
ceeded to  establish  women's  meetings  throughout 
England  on  an  even  footing  with  those  of  men, 
though  separated  from  them.  Ever  since  that  time 
Quakers  have  held  dual  meetings  for  business,  inde- 
pendent though  coordinating.  In  meetings  for  wor- 
ship, all  met  together  and  men  and  women  ministers 
were  equally  privileged  to  speak  as  the  spirit  moved 
them.  Women  Friends  did  not  lose  their  poise  under 
their  new-found  freedom,  but  adjusted  themselves  to 
their  new  duties  with  wisdom  and  ability. 

Exactly  two  hundred  years  later,  in  1848, 
Lucretia  Mott  and  her  sister,  Martha  C.  Wright, 

22  337 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

with  two  other  women,  all  followers  of  George  Fox, 
called  a  meeting  in  Wesleyan  Chapel  at  Seneca 
Falls,  New  York,  to  start  a  movement  to  secure  jus- 
tice for  women,  which  at  that  time  was  not  accorded 
them  under  the  common  laws  of  England  that 
were  then  in  force.  These  laws  were  characterized 
by  Lord  Brougham  as  "  a  disgrace  to  the  civilization 
of  the  I9th  century." 

In  the  summer  of  1840,  Lucretia  Mott  of  Phila- 
delphia was  in  London,  sent  there  as  a  delegate  from 
an  American  Abolition  Society  to  a  World's  Anti- 
slavery  Convention,  called  to  meet  in  that  city  in 
July.  Accompanying  her  were  Elizabeth  Cady 
Stanton,  Mary  Grew,  five  other  women,  and  several 
men,  amongst  whom  were  Wendell  Phillips,  William 
Lloyd  Garrison,  Nathaniel  P.  Rogers,  Henry  B. 
Stanton  and  James  G.  Birney. 

Soon  after  arriving  in  London  the  men  who  were 
managing  the  affair  were  thrown  into  a  panic  upon 
learning  of  the  presence  of  women  from  America 
who  had  certificates  as  delegates  to  the  convention, 
for  such  a  thing  was  never  heard  of  before.  What 
right  had  women  to  take  part  in  the  proceedings? 
None  at  all,  according  to  British  precedent.  The 
convention  met  and  at  once  fell  into  an  acrimonious 
debate  upon  the  question  of  admitting  the  women, 
which  lasted  two  days,  at  the  end  of  which  time  a 
verdict  of  exclusion  was  reached.  The  women  might 
sit  in  the  gallery,  but  must  take  no  part  in  proceed- 
ings. Two  men,  also  delegates,  William  Lloyd 
Garrison  and  Nathaniel  P.  Rogers,  by  way  of  pro- 
test, refused  to  attend  the  convention  except  as 
spectators.  The  action  of  the  convention  aroused 
much  indignation  among  the  Americans  and  some 
of  the  British  who  were  present ;  and  when  the  news 
reached  America  there  was  a  belated  storm  of  pro- 

338 


From  the  Wigton  School  Portrait 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  MOVEMENT 

test,  which,  of  course,  was  quite  useless.  The  sequel 
was  a  long  way  off — the  day,  eighty  years  later,  when 
the  women  of  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States 
acquired  the  right  to  vote. 

Elizabeth  Cady  Stanton,  who  was  one  of  the 
accredited  delegates  to  the  World's  Convention,  met 
James  and  Lurcetia  Mott  there  for  the  first  time.  A 
life-long  friendship  was  the  result.  The  following 
extracts  from  her  reminiscences  add  some  graphic 
touches  to  the  picture. 

.  .  .  "  In  June,  1840,  I  met  Mrs.  Mott  for  the 
first  time  in  London.  .  .  .  When  introduced  to 
her  at  our  hotel  in  Great  Queen  Street,  with  the 
other  ladies  from  Boston  and  Philadelphia  who  were 
delegates  to  the  World's  Convention,  I  felt  some- 
what embarrassed.  Mrs.  Mott,  in  her  sweet,  gentle 
way,  received  me  with  great  cordiality  and  courtesy, 
and  I  was  seated  by  her  side  at  dinner. 

"  No  sooner  were  the  viands  fairly  dispensed, 
than  several  ministers  began  to  rally  the  ladies  on 
having  set  the  Abolitionists  by  the  ears  in  America, 
and  now  proposing  to  do  the  same  thing  in  England. 
I  soon  found  that  an  impending  battle  was  on  on 
woman's  rights,  and  that,  unwittingly,  I  was  by  mar- 
riage on  the  wrong  side.  As  I  had  thought  much  on 
this  question  in  regard  to  the  laws,  church  action, 
and  social  usages,  I  found  myself  in  full  accord  with 
Lucretia  Mott  in  combating  most  of  the  gentlemen 
at  the  table.  Calmly  and  skillfully  she  parried  all 
their  attacks,  now  by  her  quiet  humor  turning  the 
laugh  on  them,  and  then  by  her  earnestness  and 
dignity  silencing  their  ridicule  and  sneers.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  look  of  recognition  she  gave  me 
when  she  saw,  by  my  remarks,  that  I  comprehended 
the  problem  of  woman's  rights  and  wrongs.  How 
beautiful  she  looked  to  me  that  day ! 

339 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

"  Lucretia  Mott  was  to  me  an  entirely  new 
revelation  of  womanhood.  I  sought  every  oppor- 
tunity to  be  at  her  side,  and  continually  plied  her 
with  questions,  and  I  shall  never  cease  to  be  grate- 
ful for  the  patience  and  seeming  pleasure  with  which 
she  fed  my  hungering  soul. 

"  On  one  occasion,  with  a  large  party,  we  visited 
the  British  Museum,  where  it  is  supposed  all  people 
go  to  see  the  wonders  of  the  world.  On  entering, 
Mrs.  Mott  and  myself  sat  down  near  the  door  to  rest 
for  a  few  minutes,  telling  the  party  to  go  on,  that  we 
would  follow.  They  accordingly  explored  all  the 
departments  of  curiosities,  supposing  we  were  slowly 
following  at  a  distance;  but  when  they  returned, 
there  we  sat  in  the  same  spot,  having  seen  nothing 
but  each  other,  wholly  absorbed  in  questions  of  the- 
ology and  social  life.  I  had  never  heard  a  woman 
utter  that  which,  as  a  Scotch  Presbyterian,  I  had 
scarcely  dared  to  think. 

"  On  the  following  Sunday  I  went  to  hear  Mrs. 
Mott  preach.  Though  I  had  never  heard  a  woman 
speak,  yet  I  had  long  believed  she  had  a  right  to  do 
so,  and  had  often  expressed  the  idea  in  private  circles ; 
but  when  at  last  I  saw  a  woman  rise  up  in  the  pulpit 
and  preach  earnestly  and  impressively,  as  Mrs.  Mott 
always  did,  it  seemed  to  me  like  the  realization  of 
an  oft-repeated,  happy  dream.  I  had  found  in  this 
new  friend  a  woman  emancipated  from  all  faith  in 
man-made  laws,  from  all  fear  of  his  denunciations, 
.  .  .  and  sitting  alone  one  day,  as  we  were  about 
to  separate  in  London,  I  expressed  to  her  my  great 
satisfaction  in  our  acquaintance.  .  .  ." 

The  reader  will  remember  that  the  above  hap- 
pened in  1840.  Lucretia  Mott  was  visiting  in  1848 
her  sister  Martha  C.  Wright,  at  Auburn,  not  far  from 
Seneca  Falls,  New  York,  and  went  to  that  town  to 

340 


*§ 

«*    Cfl 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  MOVEMENT 

call  on  Mrs.  Stanton,  who  had  gone  there  to  reside. 

On  July  fourteenth  of  that  year  the  following 
startling  announcement  appeared  in  a  local  paper: 
"  A  convention  to  discuss  the  social,  civil,  and  re- 
ligious condition  and  rights  of  women  will  be  held 
in  the  Wesleyan  Chapel,  at  Seneca  Falls,  N.  Y.,  on 
Wednesday  and  Thursday,  the  ipth  and  2Oth  of  July, 
current;  commencing  at  10  o'clock  A.M.  During  the 
first  day  the  meeting  will  be  exclusively  for  women, 
who  are  earnestly  invited  to  attend.  The  public 
generally  are  invited  to  be  present  on  the  second 
day,  when  Lucretia  Mott,  of  Philadelphia,  and  other 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  will  address  the  convention." 

This  call,  without  signature,  was  issued  by 
Lucretia  Mott,  Martha  C.  Wright,  Elizabeth  Cady 
Stanton,  and  Mary  Ann  McClintock.  Lucretia  Mott 
and  Elizabeth  Cady  Stanton  had  spoken  in  London, 
at  the  time  of  the  meeting  eight  years  before,  of  the 
propriety  of  holding  such  a  convention  as  they  now 
proposed.  Now  had  come  to  pass  the  realization  of 
those  hopes. 

The  four  ladies,  sitting  round  the  tea-table  of 
Richard  Hunt  (a  follower  of  George  Fox,  living 
near  Waterloo,  New  York),  decided  to  put  their 
long-talked-of  resolution  into  action,  and  before  the 
twilight  deepened  into  night,  the  call  was  written, 
and  sent  to  the  Seneca  County  Courier.  On  Sunday 
morning  they  met  in  Mrs.  McClintock's  parlor  to 
write  their  resolutions,  and  to  consider  subjects  for 
speeches.  The  resolutions  adopted  in  this  conven- 
tion demanded  all  that  the  friends  of  the  movement 
have  since  claimed.  The  convention  met  and  con- 
tinued through  two  entire  days,  late  into  the  even- 
ing, and  adjourned  to  meet  at  Rochester  two  weeks 
later.  It  was  finally  decided  to  admit  men  and  not 
confine  the  meeting  to  women  as  announced,  and 

34i 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

James  Mott,  Lucretia's  husband,  was  called  upon 
to  preside. 

At  the  ensuing  Rochester  meeting  the  following 
resolutions  were  adopted : 

"  That  we  will  petition  our  State  Legislature  for 
our  right  to  the  elective  franchise,  every  year,  until 
our  prayer  be  granted. 

"  That  it  is  an  admitted  principle  of  the  American 
Republic,  that  the  only  just  power  of  the  Govern- 
ment is  derived  from  the  consent  of  the  governed ; 
that  taxation  and  representation  are  inseparable; 
and,  therefore,  woman,  being  taxed  equally  with 
men,  ought  not  to  be  deprived  of  an  equal  represen- 
tation in  the  Government. 

"That  we  deplore  the  apathy  and  indifference 
of  woman  in  regard  to  her  rights,  thus  restricting 
her  to  an  inferior  position  in  social,  religious,  and 
political  life,  and  we  urge  her  to  claim  an  equal  right 
to  act  on  all  subjects  that  interest  the  human  family. 

"  The  universal  doctrine  of  the  inferiority  of 
woman  has  ever  caused  her  to  distrust  her  own 
powers,  and  paralyzed  her  energies,  and  placed  her 
in  that  degraded  position  from  which  the  most 
strenuous  and  unremitting  effort  can  alone  redeem 
her.  Only  by  faithful  perseverance  in  the  practical 
exercise  of  those  talents,  so  long  '  wrapped  in  a 
napkin  and  buried  under  the  earth,'  will  she  regain 
her  long-lost  equality  with  man." 

At  that  period,  when  a  woman  was  married,  she 
became  almost  annihilated  in  the  eyes  of  the  law. 
She  lost  the  right  to  receive  and  control  the  wages 
of  her  own  labor.  If  she  was  an  administratrix  or 
executrix,  she  was  counted  as  dead,  and  another 
must  be  appointed.  If  she  had  children,  they  might 
be  taken  from  her  against  her  will,  and  put  in  the  care 
of  anyone,  no  matter  how  unfit,  whom  the  father 

342 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  MOVEMENT 

might  select.  He  might  even  give  them  away  by 
will.  The  personal  property  of  the  wife,  such  as 
money,  goods,  cattle  and  other  chattels  which  she 
had  in  her  possession  at  the  time  of  her  marriage,  in 
her  own  right,  and  not  in  the  right  of  another,  vested 
immediately  in  the  husband,  and  he  could  dispose  of 
them  as  he  pleased.  On  his  death,  they  went  to  his 
representatives  like  the  residue  of  his  property. 

When  woman  was  tried  for  crime,  her  jury,  her 
judges,  her  advocates,  all  were  men ;  and  yet  there 
may  have  been  temptations  and  various  palliating 
circumstances  connected  with  her  peculiar  nature  as 
woman,  such  as  man  could  not  understand. 

If  a  wife  was  compelled  to  get  a  divorce  on  ac- 
count of  the  infidelity  of  the  husband,  she  forfeited 
all  right  to  the  property  which  they  had  earned  to- 
gether, while  the  husband,  who  might  be  the  offender, 
still  retained  the  sole  possession  and  control  of  the 
estate.  She,  the  innocent  party,  went  out  childless 
and  portionless  by  decrees  of  law,  and  he,  the  crim- 
inal, retained  the  home  and  children  by  favor  of  the 
same  law.  A  drunkard  took  his  wife's  clothing  to 
pay  his  rum  bills,  and  the  court  declared  that  the 
action  was  legal  because  the  wife  belonged  to 
the  husband. 

In  1849  women  got  possession  by  statute  law  of 
their  clothes,  and  were  allowed  to  own  as  much  as 
three  hundred  dollars  in  money.  In  1874  the  right  to 
have  a  bank  account  that  their  husbands  could  not 
draw  upon  was  extended  to  women.  In  1883 
women's  privileges  were  still  further  enlarged  by 
their  being  made  able  to  collect  and  use  their  wages ;  in 
1885,  in  some  states,  the  mother  was  given  joint  right, 
with  the  father,  to  the  children. 

Under  the  common  law,  the  very  being  or  legal 
existence  of  woman  was  suspended  during  the  mar- 

343 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

riage,  or  at  least  was  incorporated  into  that  of  the 
husband.  In  the  eye  of  the  law,  she  ceased  to  be  a 
distinct  person;  husband  and  wife  were  one,  and 
that  one  was  the  husband. 

Our  American  men  would  not  stand  for  the 
common  laws  of  England  in  reference  to  women, 
many  of  which  were  in  force  when  Lucretia  Mott, 
with  the  other  three  women,  called  the  first  Woman's 
Rights  Convention  at  Seneca  Falls,  N.  Y.,  in  1840. 

To  the  honor  of  American  men,  woman  now  finds 
her  needs  very  well  supplied  and  her  rights  upheld. 
If  she  wants  to  work  she  has  all  occupations  to 
choose  from.  If  she  desires  an  education,  the  schools 
and  colleges  are  freely  opened  to  her.  If  she  wishes 
to  address  the  public  by  pen  or  voice,  the  people 
hear  her  gladly.  The  laws  have  been  largely  modi- 
fied in  her  favor,  and  where  they  might  press  they 
are  seldom  enforced.  She  may  accumulate  and  con- 
trol property;  she  may  set  up  her  own  domestic 
establishment  and  go  and  come  at  will. 

Nothing  could  be  more  illogical  than  the  belief 
held  by  many  almost  up  to  the  present  time,  that  a 
republic  would  confer  every  gift  upon  a  woman  ex- 
cept the  choicest,  and  then  forever  withhold  this; 
or  that  woman  would  be  content  to  possess  all  others 
and  not  eventually  demand  the  one  most  valuable — 
the  ballot. 

When  the  Woman's  Rights  Convention  was  held 
at  Seneca  Falls  the  general  tone  of  the  press  was 
shown  in  that  newspaper  which  said :  "  This  bolt  is 
the  most  shocking  and  unnatural  incident  ever  re- 
corded in  the  history  of  humanity ;  if  these  demands 
were  effected,  it  would  set  the  world  by  the  ears, 
make  confusion  worse  confounded,  demoralize  and 
degrade  from  their  high  sphere  and  noble  destiny 
344 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  MOVEMENT 

women  of  all  respectable  and  useful  classes,  and 
prove  a  monstrous  injury  to  all  mankind." 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  when  George  Fox  in 
1648  instituted  the  principle  of  treating  women  upon 
an  equality  of  rights  and  privileges  with  men,  he 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  Woman's  Rights  Move- 
ment in  America,  and,  in  fact,  the  world  over;  and 
it  was  Lucretia  Mott  who,  exactly  two  hundred 
years  later,  started  a  new  movement  for  the  removal 
of  every  disability  women  were  enduring  and  had 
been  enduring  at  the  hands  of  their  brothers  ever 
since  the  world  became  inhabited  by  human  beings. 
Elizabeth  Cady  Stanton  was  a  pioneer  who  came 
upon  the  stage  of  action  through  the  inspiration 
imparted  to  her  by  Lucretia  Mott.  Even  Susan  B. 
Anthony,  the  indefatigable  and  far-seeing  leader  of 
the  suffrage  cause,  owed  much  in  those  early  days 
to  the  little  Quaker  woman  of  Philadelphia — 
Lucretia  Mott.  So  she  herself  said  at  a  reception  in 
her  honor  in  Philadelphia  on  the  fifty-third  anni- 
versary of  her  birth. 

"  I  feel  that  I  must  speak,  because  if  I  should  hear 
all  these  words  of  praise  and  remain  silent,  I  should 
seem  to  assent  to  tributes  which  I  do  not  wholly 
deserve.  My  kind  friends  have  spoken  almost  as  if 
I  had  done  the  work,  or  the  greater  part  of  it,  alone, 
whereas  I  have  been  only  one  of  many  men  and 
women  who  have  labored  side  by  side  in  this  cause. 
Philadelphia  has  had  the  honor  of  giving  to  the 
world  a  woman  who  led  the  way  in  this  noble  effort. 
Lucretia  Mott  and  Elizabeth  Cady  Stanton  were 
active  in  the  good  work  ere  my  attention  had  been 
called  to  it.  It  was  through  their  influence  that  I 
was  led  to  consider  and  accept  the  new  doctrine." 

The  following  resolution  was  passed  at  the 
National  Woman  Suffrage  Convention  of  li 

345 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

"  Lucretia  Mott  will  always  be  revered  as  one  of 
those  who  conceived  the  idea  of  a  convention  to 
make  an  organized  demand  for  justice  to  women." 

At  this  convention,  Albert  O.  Wilcox,  of  New 
York,  whose  eighty-seven  years  were  filled  with 
valuable  work  for  reforms  said  that  he  was  drawn  to 
the  conviction  that  women  ought  to  have  a  share  in 
the  Government  by  a  sermon  preached  by  Lucretia 
Mott  in  1839.  This  was  nine  years  before  the  Seneca 
Falls  Convention. 

Miss  Anthony's  public  appearance  as  advocate 
of  woman's  rights  may  be  said  to  have  begun  in 
1852.  On  September  eighth  of  that  year,  she  went 
to  her  first  Woman's  Rights  Convention,  that  being 
her  earliest  opportunity  of  attending  one.  On  this 
occasion  Lucretia  Mott  presided,  and  Martha  C. 
Wright,  her  sister,  and  Susan  B.  Anthony,  acted 
as  secretaries. 

Of  Lucretia  Mott,  the  Syracuse  Standard  said: 
"  It  was  a  singular  spectacle  to  see  this  Quaker 
matron  presiding  over  a  convention  with  an  ease, 
grace  and  dignity  that  might  be  envied  by  the  most 
experienced  legislator  in  the  country." 

At  the  Thirteenth  Annual  Convention  which 
assembled  in  Lincoln  Hall,  Washington,  in  1881, 
Miss  Anthony  said  that  the  highest  tribute  she 
could  pay  to  Lucretia  Mott  was  that  during  the  past 
thirty  years  she  had  always  felt  the  assurance  that 
she  was  right  when  she  had  the  approval  of  Lucretia 
Mott.  Next  to  that  of  her  own  conscience  she  most 
valued  the  approval  of  her  sainted  friend. 

The  reader  will  find  on  another  page  portraits  of 
two  pioneers  for  justice  to  women — Lucretia  Mott 
and  Susan  B.  Anthony.  The  pictures  of  both 
Lucretia  Mott  and  Miss  Anthony  must  have  been 
originally  made  at  about  the  time  of  the  Seneca 
Falls  Convention,  when,  like  the  minutemen  of 

346 


FIRST  SUFFRAGE  PARADE,  NEW  YORK,  MAY  4,  1912 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS  MOVEMENT 

Concord  in  1775,  they  "  fired  the  shot  heard  around 
the  world  "  (with  a  difference).  I  have  given  these 
two  women  the  place  of  honor,  because  to  them, 
more  than  to  any  other  two  women,  the  world  owes 
the  present  enfranchisement  of  women ;  had  it  not 
been  for  them  it  would  have  come,  but  not  so  soon. 
They  set  the  ball  rolling  in  the  beginning;  the  others 
kept  it  going. 

This  leads  me  to  say  that,  when  I  was  a  boy  on 
our  Upper  Dublin  farm  in  the  early  5o's,  there  came 
to  our  house  a  weekly  paper  which  told  about  the 
Seneca  Falls  Convention.  The  paper  had  been  estab- 
lished by  four  women  and  kept  us  posted  in  the 
history  that  was  in  the  making  for  the  advancement 
of  the  sex.  My  father  and  mother  must  have  been 
familiar  with  the  incidents  of  the  London  Anti- 
slavery  Convention  from  which  women  were  ex- 
cluded, and  with  the  proceedings  of  the  Woman's 
Rights  Convention,  at  Seneca  Falls,  in  1848.  Thus 
it  was  that  I  became  established  and  grounded  in 
the  faith,  so  that  when  I  arrived  at  man's  estate,  I 
did  not  have  to  go  through  a  period  of  tardy  conver- 
sion or  probation,  as  so  many  other  men  did,  but 
had  graduated,  a  full-fledged  friend  and  advocate  of 
woman's  cause. 

Lucretia  Mott  was  one  whom  we  all  learned  to 
revere  and  love,  never  missing  an  opportunity  to 
hear  her  preach  in  meeting,  or  speak  on  the  conven- 
tion platform.  She  was  a  beautiful  woman,  a  most 
graceful  and  charming  speaker  and  preacher,  who 
had  a  vein  of  humor,  often  in  evidence,  and  whose 
words  carried  conviction  to  so  many.  When  my 
office  was  at  914  Arch  Street,  on  the  second  floor,  in 
the  year  1878,  I  met  a  small,  aged  woman  at  the 
foot  of  the  steep  stairs  of  my  office,  who  had  come, 
she  said,  to  renew  her  subscription  to  Friends'  Jour- 
nal, which  had  its  office  upstrirs  with  me.  I  noticed 

347 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

the  feebleness  of  the  woman,  and  so  requested  that 
she  would  let  me  go  up  and  get  her  account  to  save 
her  from  climbing  the  stairs,  asking  her  to  step  into 
the  book  store  and  wait  until  I  returned,  and  this 
she  did.  I  knew  the  woman ;  she  was  Lucretia  Mott. 

I  would  not  detract  one  iota  from  the  credit  and 
honor  that  attaches  to  any  of  the  noble  women  who 
took  up  the  burden  of  the  pioneers,  and  whose  labors 
have  carried  the  cause  to  victory.  All  of  them  now 
living  will  agree  that  I  have  correctly  defined  the 
genesis  of  the  Woman's  Rights  Movement.  Now 
that  woman  is  coming  into  her  own,  I  fear  she  will 
have  hard  work  in  helping  man  untangle  the  mussed 
up  affairs  of  this  topsy  turvy  world,  brought  on 
partly,  no  doubt,  because  men  alone  had  charge  of 
the  job  from  the  beginning.  In  1849  Lucretia  Mott 
said :  "  Who  knows  but  that  if  woman  had  acted  her 
part  in  government  affairs  there  might  be  an  entire 
change  in  the  turmoil  of  political  life?  It  becomes 
man  to  speak  modestly  of  his  ability  to  act  without 
her  aid." 

It  may  be  set  down  as  truth  that  the  children 
will  hereafter  be  better  cared  for,  the  protection  and 
conservation  of  child  life  being  woman's  specialty. 
The  destiny  of  the  nation,  of  the  world,  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  children. 

I  acknowledge  my  indebtedness,  with  thanks, 
for  much  of  the  information  contained  in  the  above 
sketch  to  the  monumental  "  History  of  Woman  Suf- 
frage," by  Susan  B.  Anthony,  Elizabeth  Cady 
Stanton  and  Matilda  J.  Gage,  and  to  "  The  Life  and 
Works  of  Susan  B.  Anthony,"  by  Ida  Husted  Harper. 

In  the  next  chapter  I  will  briefly  tell  of  an  unim- 
portant part  played  by  me  in  the  cause  of  woman's 
enfranchisement,  as  head  of  the  Pennsylvania  Men's 
League  for  Woman  Suffrage. 

348 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  PENNSYLVANIA  MEN'S  LEAGUE  FOR 
WOMAN  SUFFRAGE 

"  To  Business  that  we  love,  we  rise  Betime 
And  go  to't  with  delight." 

Shakespeare. 

ON  the  thirty-first  of  March,  1914,  having  some- 
time previously  become  a  member  of  the  Men's  League, 
[  attended  the  second  annual  meeting  held  at  the 
office  of  the  Woman  Suffrage  Party  at  1723  Chest- 
nut Street,  Professor  L.  S.  Rowe  in  the  chair. 

Early  the  next  year  I  heard  that  Mrs.  Frank  M. 
Roessing,  of  Pittsburg,  President  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Woman  Suffrage  Association,  had  expressed  a 
desire  to  have  me  elected  president  of  the  League  at 
the  next  annual  meeting  in  March,  1915.  I  was  not 
an  aspirant  to  that  honorable  position  and  had  no 
wish  to  assume  the  responsibility  the  office  entailed. 
A  campaign  was  coming  on  for  the  adoption  of  an 
amendment  to  the  State  Constitution  giving  the 
women  the  right  to  vote  in  Pennsylvania,  and  I  sup- 
posed that  Mrs.  Roessing's  intention  was  to  secure 
the  help  of  the  Men's  League  to  carry  the  reform  to 
success  at  the  ensuing  fall  election,  and  wished  to 
have  a  young  man  to  put  ginger  into  the  League,  and 
as  I  was  only  three  months  short  of  seventy-five 
years  of  age,  she  lit  on  me.  It  is  likely  also  that  she 
knew  the  Farm  Journal,  which  had  a  large  circulation 
throughout  the  state,  might  become  a  force  in 
spreading  the  doctrine  of  woman  suffrage  among 
the  electorate. 

Although  I  was  very  busy  at  the  time  I  could  not 
349 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

well  refuse  to  serve,  since  I  was  an  ardent  friend  of 
the  cause  then,  as  I  had  been  all  my  life.  I  there- 
fore accepted  the  proffered  honor,  determined  to  see 
what  could  be  done  by  the  League  to  help  the  women 
win  their  cause. 

I  called  a  special  meeting  for  the  fifteenth  of  the 
ensuing  month  in  order  to  commit  the  League  to 
joining  in  a  parade  the  women  were  planning  to 
have  on  the  first  of  May.  This  was  done.  The 
parade  came  off  on  the  day  named,  the  League  took 
part  and  was  well  represented.  It  started  from 
Washington  Square,  in  front  of  the  Farm  Journal 
office,  our  building  being  used  as  headquarters  for 
the  paraders,  and  ended  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House,  where  an  immense  meeting  was  held  and 
addressed  by  Dr.  Anna  Howard  Shaw  and  Mrs. 
Antoinette  Funk. 

The  trial  of  the  women's  cause  was  to  take  place 
at  the  polls  on  the  ensuing  second  of  November,  so 
I  had  seven  months  to  prepare  for  the  event.  No 
time  was  to  be  lost.  I  set  apart  rooms  in  the  Farm 
Journal  building,  employed  a  competent  salaried 
working  force,  and  set  a  number  of  printing  presses 
in  motion.  I  adopted  as  our  motto,  "  Move  on,  Men, 
Move  On."  I  selected  an  energetic  executive  secre- 
tary with  four  assistants,  including  a  stenographer. 

I  had  shifted  the  directors  of  the  League  who  were 
unable  to  give  attention  to  our  business  to  the  list 
of  vice-presidents,  and  appointed  some  new  ones; 
and  I  carefully  selected  a  campaign  committee  of 
energetic,  earnest  men,  some  of  them  young  fellows, 
who  could  be  depended  upon  to  take  an  active  part 
in  the  ensuing  contest  of  the  League  and  to  keep  up 
the  fight  until  the  polls  should  close  on  the  second 
of  November.  The  campaign  committee  consisted 
of  John  W.  Shrigley,  George  C.  Small,  Henry  Johns 

350 


LEAGUE  FOR  WOMAN  SUFFRAGE 

Gibbons,  John  J.  Ridgway,  Ryerson  W.  Jennings 
and  Frederick  H.  Graser. 

Without  entering  into  details  of  the  work  as  it 
progressed,  I  may  quote  in  part  the  report  read  at 
the  Fourth  Annual  Meeting  of  the  League  in  March, 
1916,  which  tells  the  story  of  the  League's  activities 
and  accomplishments  during  the  previous  year: 

"  Previous  to  March  31,  1915,  the  Pennsylvania 
Men's  League  for  Woman  Suffrage  was  not  a  going 
organization,  and  was  not  intended  to  be;  now  it 
must  get  to  work. 

"  An  appeal  was  sent  to  all  men  who  had  signed  slips 
pledging  their  support  to  the  cause  by  their  influence 
and  votes.  At  first  there  were  about  5000  of  these,  but 
this  number  rapidly  increased  until  just  before  election 
we  had  48,175,  all  of  whom  were  circularized. 

"  The  actual  membership  of  the  League  grew  from 
500  in  May  to  8683  on  November  2nd,  omitting  the 
Pittsburgh  list,  which,  under  the  presidency  of  Julian 
Kennedy,  numbered  over  15,000. 

"  Circular  letters  and  literature  were  sent  into 
every  county,  not  only  to  men  who  had  made  pledges, 
but  in  thousands  of  cases  to  lists  of  voters  which 
had  been  sent  in  by  county  leaders.  Return  post- 
cards were  used  in  many  send-outs. 

"  Letters  and  literature  were  sent  to  all  granges 
in  Pennsylvania  with  follow-ups;  to  all  clergymen 
whose  names  appeared  in  the  telephone  book  in  and 
near  Philadelphia ;  to  all  ministers  of  the  Reformed 
Church  in  the  state ;  to  all  members  of  the  Republi- 
can and  Democratic  Committees,  to  city  officials,  and 
to  all  the  trade  unions  in  the  city. 

"  Urgent  appeals  were  twice  sent  to  men  of 
prominence  whose  names  appeared  in  the  Blue  Book, 
also  in  the  county  directories  near  Philadelphia. 

35i 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

There  were  16,000  of  these  persons  appealed  to,  ap- 
parently with  good  effect. 

"  In  September,  C.  E.  Wells,  a  young  colored 
man,  was  employed  to  canvass  and  distribute  suit- 
able literature  among  the  colored  voters.  He  was 
kept  busy  all  through  the  remainder  of  the  campaign. 

"  A  speakers'  bureau  was  organized,  and  numer- 
ous speakers,  some  of  them  salaried,  were  supplied 
to  meetings  in  town  and  in  neighboring  counties. 
Members  of  the  campaign  committee  were  active  as 
speakers  and  workers  all  through  the  canvass. 

"  Financial  assistance  to  the  extent  of  five  dollars 
a  week  was  given  to  Delaware  county  for  two 
months  previous  to  the  election,  and  fifty  dollars 
was  contributed  toward  the  campaign  fund  of  Mont- 
gomery county.  The  League  also  contributed  to- 
wards advertising  in  the  daily  newspapers  just  pre- 
vious to  the  election.  The  sum  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  was  given  to  the  woman's  state  asso- 
ciation. No  contributions  were  solicited  from  any 
quarter  and  new  members  paid  no  dues. 

"  Thousands  of  free  buttons  were  distributed,  and 
for  the  parade,  which  was  held  in  October,  2000 
badges  were  given  out,  and  500  lanterns  were  bought 
so  that  every  man  who  promised  to  march  in  the 
parade  might  have  one  to  carry. 

"  There  was  a  great  demand  for  the  literature 
printed  by  the  League,  and  large  quantities  of  it 
were  distributed  by  district  leaders,  campaign 
speakers,  and  by  the  various  headquarters.  Much 
literature  was  sent  by  mail  to  women  leaders  all 
over  the  state.  About  400,000  copies  altogether  were 
printed  and  distributed. 

"  A  letter,  with  state  suffrage  maps,  was  sent  to 
all  Senators  and  Representatives  of  Pennsylvania, 

352 


LEAGUE  FOR  WOMAN  SUFFRAGE 

urging  them  to  vote  for  the  National  Woman  Suffrage 
Amendment  when  it  should  come  up  in  Congress. 

"  An  elaborate  analysis  of  the  November  vote  was 
made,  and  a  black  and  white  map  of  the  state  was 
printed  by  the  league,  a  facsimile  of  which  appears 
here.  Many  thousands  of  these  maps  were  supplied 
free.  The  vote  in  the  entire  state  was  385,348  for, 
and  441,034  against,  making  an  adverse  majority  of 
55,686,  of  which  Philadelphia  contributed  45,272. 

"  The  league  printed  a  facsimile  of  the  decoy 
ballot  which  was  intended  to  defeat  and  which  did 
defeat  the  suffrage  amendment.  The  ignorant -and 
'  kept '  among  the  electorate  united  with  the  saloon 
interests  and  brought  defeat  at  the  polls. 

"  Over  $4000  was  spent  for  postage,  salaries,  and 
speakers,  alone.  The  entire  expense  of  the  campaign 
up  to  November  2nd  amounted  to  $7840.07,  and  on 
November  3rd  all  bills  had  been  paid,  leaving  a  com- 
fortable balance  in  the  treasury. 

"  It  is  unfortunate,  indeed  pitiful,  that  the  women 
of  Pennsylvania  should  have  to  spend  one-third  or 
one-half  of  their  time  and  strength  in  collecting 
money  to  carry  on  their  campaign  for  equal  politi- 
cal privileges,  while  many  men  stand  aloof,  withholding 
requisite  funds  that  they  are  amply  able  to  provide,  and 
which  they  should  provide  without  solicitation. 

"  The  devotion  of  our  women  to  their  cause  has 
never  been  surpassed  in  the  whole  history  of  the 
struggle  for  human  rights  since  the  nation  was  founded. 

"  WILMER  ATKINSON, 
"  President." 

The   following  resolution   was   adopted   at   the 

above  meeting:   "Resolved,  That  the  members  of  the 

Pennsylvania   Men's    League  are   determined  that 

equal  suffrage  shall  prevail  in  this  state  and  that  we 

23  353 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

shall  not  relax  our  efforts  in  this  behalf  until  their 
rights  are  recognized." 

In  order  to  increase  the  membership  and  to 
bring  new  workers  into  the  campaign  all  were  ex- 
cused from  paying  dues,  and  as  I  am  a  poor  hand 
to  solicit  funds  from  any  person  whatever,  only  a 
few  contributions  were  received,  and  these  in  small 
sums,  except  that  former  Secretary  Henry  Justice 
handed  in  one  hundred  dollars  on  two  occasions, 
and  some  of  my  personal  friends  turned  in  some 
funds.  So  it  was  necessary  to  make  constant  appeals 
to  the  handsome  young  man  who  acted  as  paying 
teller  at  the  Penn  National  Bank,  who  graciously 
honored  all  drafts  made  upon  him  by  the  League, 
who  always  looked  cheerful,  never  failed  us,  and 
never  complained. 

After  the  election  was  over,  the  League  did  not 
cease  its  work,  but  went  on  with  its  plans  for  keep- 
ing up  the  fight  until  ultimate  success  should  crown 
our  endeavor.  The  election,  as  I  have  said,  took 
place  on  November  second,  1915,  but  all  through  1916 
we  had  two  salaried  lecturers  in  the  field  who  did 
efficient  work  among  church  workers,  mill  men 
and  the  general  public,  whose  votes  we  wished  to 
secure  in  future  elections.  Meetings  were  held  in 
churches  in  Philadelphia  and  suburban  towns ;  gen- 
eral meetings  throughout  the  city  in  winter  and  sum- 
mer, street  meetings,  factory  meetings,  numbering 
altogether  over  one  hundred  and  fifty. 

Since  the  legislature  of  Pennsylvania  had  refused 
the  women  of  the  state  another  chance  to  win  suf- 
frage through  an  amendment  to  the  Constitution, 
and  since  efforts  were  being  concentrated  upon  Con- 
gress to  secure  the  passage  of  the  Susan  B.  Anthony 
Amendment,  efforts  of  the  Pennsylvania  Men's 

354 


LEAGUE  FOR  WOMAN  SUFFRAGE 

League  subsided,  though  my  determination  to  stand 
by  the  women's  just  rights  was  not  in  the  least 
abated,  and  I  am  ready  to  answer  any  call  for 
future  service. 

I  close  this  account  by  saying  that  my  work  as 
President  of  the  Pennsylvania  Men's  League  for 
Woman  Suffrage  was  immensely  enjoyed  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  and  I  was  grateful  for  the  oppor- 
tunity to  show  what  a  young  man  can  do  when  he 
hitches  his  wagon  to  a  star. 


355 


CHAPTER  XXX 

FORTIETH  ANNIVERSARY  OF  THE  FARM 
JOURNAL 

IT  is  with  some  hesitancy  I  come  to  tell  of  the 
celebration  of  the  fortieth  year  of  the  Farm  Journal, 
which  took  place  in  our  new  building  on  Washington 
Square  on  February  twenty-first,  1917. 

The  affair  was  given  in  my  honor  because  I  had 
been  present  at  the  bornin',  and  kept  faithful  watch 
up  to  this  time.  Though  I  was  editor  during  all  the 
period,  many  others  contributed  to  the  enterprise, 
and  to  the  success  that  was  achieved.  I  often  told 
Our  Folks  that  they  must  not  think  that  all  the 
good  things  in  the  paper  were  written  by  me.  What 
I  said  was  true,  and  equally  true  it  was  that  no  one 
could  get  anything  into  the  paper  but  what  accorded 
with  my  ideas  of  what  was  right. 

The  celebration  was  a  surprise  to  me.  Being 
around  all  the  time,  I  had  some  inkling  of  what  was 
going  on,  but  no  adequate  idea  to  what  extent  the 
folks  were  making  preparations  for  the  celebration. 
Had  I  been  informed,  I  suppose  I  should  have  ob- 
jected to  so  much  fuss  being  made,  and  "  they  "  did 
not  want  to  have  their  plans  interfered  with  by 
my  protestations. 

My  nephew  Charles,  he  of  the  bountiful  spirit, 
was  determined  to  do  something  unusual,  without 
regard  to  the  cost  or  the  labor,  something  that  would 
be  a  surprise  to  me,  and  give  pleasure  to  our  friends, 
and  he  succeeded. 

356 


FARM  JOURNAL  BUILDING,  WEST  WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


FORTIETH  ANNIVERSARY 

There  was  a  reception  early  in  the  afternoon  in 
Charles's  office,  overlooking  Washington  Square, 
and  my  family  and  myself  were  placed  in  the  re- 
ceiving line  while  all  of  the  employees,  of  whom 
there  were  many,  came  flocking  in  one  after  another, 
extending  a  cordial  greeting  with  an  expression  of 
good  will  in  words  and  faces.  I  was  prepared  for 
this — it  was  all  in  the  day's  work. 

What  I  did  not  expect  was  to  see  strangers  in 
the  line,  who  proved  to  be  men  and  women  from  far 
and  near,  whom  I  had  never  seen  and  did  not  ever 
expect  to  see — those  who  had  so  ably  helped  me 
make  the  Farm  Journal  what  I  wished  it  to  be ;  those 
with  whom  I  had  had  pleasant  correspondence  for 
years,  and  whom  I  had  learned  to  know,  to  admire 
and  to  esteem.  All  these  had  been  invited,  as  guests 
of  Wilmer  Atkinson  Company,  to  come  to  Philadel- 
phia and  take  part  in  celebrating  our  fortieth  anni- 
versary, to  visit  places  of  interest  in  the  city  and  to 
have  a  good  time  generally. 

Need  I  say  how  surprisingly  happy  I  was  to  be 
able  thus  to  greet  my  friends  from  a  distance,  those 
who  had  done  so  much  to  contribute  to  the  pages  of 
the  Farm  Journal,  and  had  relieved  me  of  so  much  of 
my  editorial  labors?  Without  much  effort  I  could 
have  wept,  but  I  held  myself  in.  Altogether,  between 
the  cordial  greeting  from  our  own  employees,  whom  I 
personally  knew,  and  the  gladness  I  felt  at  being  able  to 
grasp  the  hands  of  my  far-away  friends,  my  heart  was 
full  and  running  over  with  joyful  appreciation. 

After  this  part  of  the  affair  was  over,  there  was 
more  to  come,  as  I  found  out.  All  were  requested  to 
repair  to  the  assembly  room  on  the  floor  above.  On 
my  arrival  there  with  my  family,  I  found  the  room 
full  of  our  friends  who  greeted  us  most  cordially  as 

357 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

we  moved  towards  the  front.  I  did  not  know  what 
was  to  happen,  but  I  was  not  much  alarmed,  feeling 
that  I  was  in  safe  hands.  I  have  no  clear  remem- 
brance of  what  occurred,  except  that  I  was  presented 
with  a  handsome  desk  (on  which  I  have  written  the 
greater  part  of  this  autobiography),  with  a  silver  pen- 
holder, an  ink-well  and  a  flower  vase. 

There  was  some  speaking,  some  of  my  associates 
arose  and  read  letters  that  had  been  received  from 
those  who  were  unable  to  accept  the  invitation  to 
come.  The  tables  around  us  were  full  of  beautiful 
flowers,  forty  of  each  kind  I  was  told,  and  I  was 
requested  to  say  something.  Haltingly  I  did  so.  It 
was  enough  to  see  so  many  kindly  faces  shining 
with  affection  for  the  innocent  victim  of  Charles's 
benevolent  designs. 

Some  of  the  letters  read  made  me  wince  because 
they  were  so  personal.  I  will  spare  the  reader  the 
agony  of  having  to  read  all  those  letters;  it  would 
take  much  time  and  not  be  of  great  interest.  Of  the 
numerous  messages  befitting  the  occasion,  one  was 
in  verse  from  my  long-time  contributor  and  good 
friend,  Mrs.  Lydia  M.  D.  O'Neil,  of  New  Mexico, 
which  I  ask  leave  to  print  as  follows : 

TO  WILMER  ATKINSON 

IN  COMMEMORATION  OF  THE  FORTIETH  ANNIVERSARY 
OF  THE  FOUNDING  OF  FARM  JOURNAL 

Great  oaks,  they  say,  from  little  acorns  grow. 
The  seedling  planted  forty  years  ago 
To  what  a  great  and  wondrous  tree  has  grown  1 
O'er  all  the  land  its  kindly  shade  is  thrown. 

358 


FORTIETH  ANNIVERSARY 

Where  stands  a  farmstead,  there  a  hand  fraternal 

Is  stretched  to  greet  each  issue  of  Farm  Journal. 

The  cowboy  of  the  wild,  wide  western  world 

Its  pages  lovingly  has  often  twirled. 

The  rancher  by  the  silv'ry  Rio  Grande 

Its  wit  and  wisdom  constantly  has  scanned. 

In  old  New  England,  on  the  mid-west  plains, 

Or  southward,  in  the  Land  of  Many  Rains, 

'Tis  known  to  one  and  all,  and  loved,  and  blest, 

And  greeted  as  a  much-desired  guest. 

To-day,  O  Wilmer  Atkinson,  of  you 

We  say,  "  He  builded  better  than  he  knew. 

He  taught  us  all  to  love  the  gracious  soil ; 

Taught  us  the  dignity  of  rural  toil ; 

The  beauty  of  God's  great,  wide  out-of-doors — 

The  highlands  and  the  lowlands,  lakes  and  moors. 

Taught  us  to  love,  nor  keep  that  love  concealed, 

Our  little  brothers  of  the  air  and  field, — 

The  birds  and  beasts  who  hide  beneath  the  fern, 

Or  wing  their  flight  with  many  a  graceful  turn. 

Taught  us  the  passing  hours  to  employ, 

To  beautify,  to  better,  to  enjoy." 

Then,  "  God  be  kind  to  you  and  yours,"  say  we, 

"  That  through  the  coming  years  you  still  may  see 

The  little  seedling  planted  years  ago, 

To  a  still  greater,  grander  oak-tree  grow." 

I  will  also  give  place  to  a  personal  letter  from 
my  friend,  Herbert  Myrick,  head  of  the  Phelps  Pub- 
lishing Company,  Springfield,  Massachusetts,  pub- 
lishers of  American  Agriculturist,  Farm  and  Home, 
and  two  western  farm  papers.  The  fact  that  Myrick 
and  I  had  been  competitors  in  business  for  a  quarter 

359 


WILMER  ATKINSON 

of  a  "century  makes  his  message  peculiarly  accept- 
able.   He  wrote : 

Springfield,  Mass. 
DEAR  MR.  ATKINSON  : 

What  is  this  I  hear  about  your  retiring?  You  have 
only  been  in  the  good  Farm  Journal  forty  years !  And 
yet  doubtless  you  are  wise  to  take  things  easier. 
What  is  life  for?  Please  let  me  tell  you  how  much 
I  have  always  appreciated  your  many  kindnesses  to 
myself  personally,  as  well  as  the  honorable  compe- 
tition and  cooperation  between  the  Farm  Journal  and 
my  own  periodical.  That's  the  sort  of  thing  that  has 
made  life  worth  living.  I  recall  with  especial  pleas- 
ure your  kindness  in  coming  over  to  New  York  to 
consult  Mr.  Brandeis  (now  a  member  of  the  United 
States  Supreme  Court)  and  myself,  relative  to  the 
persecution  to  which  I  was  subjected  by  the  Post 
Office  Department. 

I  am 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

HERBERT  MYRICK. 

I  recall  the  occasion  of  my  visit  to  New  York 
and  the  desire  I  felt  to  do  a  good  turn  to  my  friend. 

My  old  friend  and  associate,  Hollister  Sage,  was 
with  us  at  the  celebration  and  on  his  return  home 
wrote  as  follows : 

Waterbury,  Conn. 
DEAR  MR.  ATKINSON  : 

How  can  I  ever  relate  how  greatly  I  enjoyed  the 
recent  celebration  of  our  fortieth  anniversary? 
Words  are  futile ;  they  are  poor  things.  I  know  that 
all  my  comrades  in  it  feel  the  same  way.  To  trans- 

360 


FORTIETH  ANNIVERSARY 

pose  the  closing  words  of  a  certain  tender  little 
speech  of  acceptance  we  all  listened  to  lately,  you 
know  that  we  all  love  you,  Mr.  Atkinson.  It  seems 
an  odd  thing  for  one  man  to  say  to  another,  but 
when  the  thing  had  said  itself,  as  the  other  day,  it 
produced  a  catchy  feeling  about  the  heart,  a  gasping 
for  breath,  a  mistiness  of  the  eyes,  in  many  of  us. 
We  rejoiced  to  find  you  so  strong  and  well ;  so  able 
to  continue  at  work.  I  offer  congratulations  for 
your  employees,  for  they  are  a  truly  loyal  body.  Sev- 
eral of  us  from  out  of  town,  discussing  the  condi- 
tions, agreed  that  even  the  thought  of  a  strike  among 
them  would  never  be  entertained — not  for  a  moment. 
A  blessed  situation  in  these  insubordinate  times. 

May  you  be  spared  in  health  to  manage  us  an- 
other forty  years. 

Most  sincerely, 

HOLLISTER  SAGE. 

The  next  morning  the  strangers  were  shown 
about  the  town,  through  Fairmount  Park,  and  were 
invited  to  take  tea  at  our  home  in  West  Philadel- 
phia, which  invitation  they  accepted  much  to  the 
pleasure  of  my  family  and  myself.  It  was  on  the 
twenty-second  of  February,  and  there  were  twenty- 
two  guests  present  to  celebrate  the  happy  occasion. 
We  had  a  most  delightful  time  and  our  visitors  could 
not  have  worn  out  their  welcome  had  they  tried. 
The  whole  company  was  entertained  at  the  Bellevue- 
Stratford  Hotel  during  their  sojourn  in  Philadelphia 
and  were  requested  to  remain  as  long  as  it  was  pleas- 
ant and  convenient  so  to  do. 

Upon  consulting  the  archives  of  the  Subscrip- 
tion Department,  in  charge  of  Arthur  H.  Jenkins,  I 
find  that  the  circulation  of  the  Farm  Journal  had  gone 
up  above  the  million  mark.  It  may  be  of  interest  to 

361 


WILMER  ATKINSON 


the  reader  to  know  how  many  subscribers  we  had  at 
that  time  in  each  state,  so  here  are  the  figures : 


Maine  

New  Hampshire 

Vermont  

Massachusetts  . . 
Rhode  Island  . . 
Connecticut  


New  York 

New  Jersey  

Pennsylvania   

Delaware 

Maryland    

Dist.  of  Columbia. 


Virginia  

North  Carolina 
South  Carolina 

Georgia  

Florida 

Ohio 

Indiana    

Illinois  

Michigan    

Wisconsin 

Minnesota   .... 

Iowa 

Missouri   

North  Dakota  . 
South  Dakota  . 
Nebraska  ., 


10,383 
6,491 
6,449 

27,364 
4,106 

14,813 

64463 

33,o84 

111,929 

7,051 

14,978 

1,307 

17,133 

13,938 

4,440 

5,952 

4,684 

65,035 

30,590 

50,222 

30,451 
34,941 
56,281 
61,680 
29,040 
25,592 

21,419 
66,320 


Kansas  

Montana   

Wyoming   . . . 
Colorado 
New  Mexico 

Arizona   

Utah 

Nevada 


24,752 
9,287 
2426 

10,405 

1,925 

1,308 

3,396 

916 


Kentucky    ",153 

West  Virginia 13,830 

Tennessee  7,657 

Alabama    4,554 

Mississippi    2,832 

Louisiana    3,549 

Texas  20,789 

Oklahoma  12,934 

Arkansas  4,870 

Idaho   5,620 

Washington   13,967 

Oregon    10,172 

California  15484 

United  States 1,001,962 

Canada 8,032 

Alaska  1,106 

Foreign   1,116 


Total 1,012,216 


The  present  circulation,  according  to  the  author- 
ity quoted  above,  is  now  somewhat  larger.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  obnoxious  zone  system,  which  has 
much  more  than  doubled  the  postage  rate  in  near, 
and  quadrupled  it  in  distant  zones,  there  would  prob- 
ably have  been  by  this  time  a  much  greater  increase 
in  the  total  circulation. 

362 


FORTIETH  ANNIVERSARY 

This  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  taken  part  in  a 
fortieth  anniversary,  and  I  shall  not  soon  forget  it. 
Three  years  later  we  celebrated  our  forty-third  and 
are  looking  forward  to  having  a  rousing  big  time  on 
our  fiftieth.  It  is  my  ardent  hope  that  all  who  were 
present  to  help  us  celebrate  the  fortieth  will  live  to 
attend  our  fiftieth,  at  which  time  the  topsyturvy 
condition  of  the  world  will  no  longer  worry  and  all 
will  be  happy  once  more. 


363 


APPENDIX 
THE  GOLDEN  WEDDING  ANNIVERSARY 

IN  lieu  of  the  chapter  "  Golden  Wedding  Anniver- 
sary "  mentioned  in  the  Foreword,  we  are  appending 
herewith  a  copy  of  the  invitation  issued  on  that  occasion, 
some  letters  and  original  poems  which  were  read  to  the 
"  bride  and  groom  "  and  those  assembled  to  celebrate 
the  happy  event,  and  also  two  other  letters  of  interest 
written  by  the  groom  a  few  days  later. 

THE  INVITATION 

1866  A.  A.  1916 

Wilmer  and  Anna  Allen  Atkinson 

request  the  pleasure  of  your  company 

on  Third  day  Eleventh  month  twenty-eighth 

from  five  until  eight  o'clock 
Forty-one  hundred  and  six  Locust  Street 

Philadelphia 
R.S.V.P.  No  Gifts 


A  LETTER  FROM   MR.  AND  MRS.  GEORGE  W.  STONE 

Santa  Cruz,  California, 

November,  1916. 
Wilmer  Atkinson, 
Anna  Allen  Atkinson, 
DEAR  OLD  FRIENDS: 

We  are  a  little  ahead  of  you  in  time,  but  we  ex- 
tend to  you  the  familiar  invitation :  "  Come  on  in ;  the 
water's  fine."  Life  loses  none  of  its  attractions  when  a 
serene  old  age  comes  on.  The  natural  increase  of 
leisure  affords  the  opportunity  to  take  it  easy,  which  is 
absolutely  prohibited  in  the  hurly-burly  of  a  business 
career.  "  Hurry  up !  "  is  not,  or  ought  not  to  be,  in  the 

364 


APPENDIX 

vocabulary  of  age.  It  is  almost  murderous  in  its  effect 
upon  the  mind  and  body  of  one  who  has  already  lost 
the  power  to  hurry.  "  Take  it  easy  "  is  the  proper 
motto  for  every  one  who  has  had  a  "  golden  wedding." 
I  do  not  wish  to  intimate  that  those  who  have  had  fifty 
years  of  matrimony  are  more  entitled  to  sympathy  than 
those  who  have,  intentionally  or  otherwise,  escaped  or 
avoided  that  experience  in  life.  Some  people  can  work 
better  in  single  than  in  double  harness,  but  I  leave  it  to 
the  agricultural  editor  if  the  double  team  is  not  the 
proper  thing  for  steady,  effective  work.  I  know  almost 
nothing  about  agriculture  except  what  I  have  learned  by 
reading  the  Farm  Journal,  and  if  I  have  crude  or  un- 
workable ideas  about  the  horse,  that  popular  journal  is 
responsible  for  my  ignorance. 

We  have  been  "  reminiscing  "  since  receiving  your 
very  kind  invitation  to  join  with  friends  in  celebrating 
your  highly  successful  attempt  to  overcome  the  diffi- 
culties of  married  life.  We  recall  much  that  is  pleas- 
ant to  reflect  upon,  and  absolutely  nothing  that  awakens 
a  feeling  of  regret.  Neighbors,  in  fact,  as  well  as  in 
name,  we  whacked  away  at  life's  problems  all  day,  and 
came  home  to  find  a  jolly  welcome,  and  lots  of  the 
pleasure  that  can  come  only  to  those  who  delight  in  the 
happiness  and  success  of  others.  Ours  was  no  cheap 
friendship  that  rests  upon  some  kind  of  compensation, 
but  was  as  disinterested  as  that  which  exists  in  nature 
between  the  birds  and  the  flowers. 

By  the  way,  speaking  about  flowers — please  con- 
sider that  there  is  a  big  bunch  of  roses,  pelargoniums, 
pentstemons,  heliotrope,  phlox  and  many  other  flowers, 
picked  from  our  own  garden,  occupying  the  big  vase, 
and  the  post  of  honor,  on  the  centre  table  in  our  living 
room ;  all  in  your  honor,  with  some  of  the  old  friend- 
ship mixed  in  with  it ;  f eelable,  but  not  seeable,  it  may 
be,  but  there  nevertheless.  Thus  we  will  celebrate  on 

365 


APPENDIX 

November  28th,  from  five  to  eight  o'clock  P.M.  (east- 
ern time).  California  and  Pennsylvania  will  be  in  the 
same  room  for  awhile,  by  wireless.  Space  no  longer 
affects  the  things  of  the  spirit. 

To  return  to  our  "  reminiscing  " — the  little,  two- 
storied  houses,  with  their  stone  steps  in  front,  affording 
room  for  two  on  each,  will  serve  for  the  most  familiar 
setting  of  the  home  life  of  those  days  of  long  ago. 
Anna  and  Kate,  Wilmer  and  George  were  the  mater 
and  pater  actors  on  that  limited  stage.  The  kiddies 
were  at  the  top  of  their  kidhood,  and  the  squalls  that 
burst  forth  occasionally  around  the  family  hearth  were 
loud,  it  may  be,  but  not  long.  I  think  we  all  got  our 
finest  lessons  in  parenthood  during  those  more  or  less 
quiet  and  instructive  years.  Anyhow,  the  mothers 
proved  their  motherhood  to  be  of  the  wise  and  loving 
type  that  made  for  society  and  the  world  a  bunch  of 
men  and  women  that  have  reflected,  and  always  will 
reflect,  credit  upon  the  busy,  anxious  mothers  who  kept 
the  little  brick  houses  as  training-schools  for  those  they 
loved  and  lived  for. 

And  now  we  have  come  to  the  other  edge  of  life. 
The  sunset  interests  us,  let  us  hope,  because  it  is  beau- 
tiful, and  not  because  we  see  that  it  is  lighting  us  to 
bed.  Perhaps  our  work  is  not  done — just  interrupted 
by  a  resting  time — and  that  it  will  go  on  in  the  hinter- 
land of  life  wiser  and  more  efficiently,  because  of  the 
dear  love  that  has  served  us  so  well  the  last  half  cen- 
tury. It  is  well  to  give  play  to  the  imagination  when 
the  occasion  calls  for  it.  We  shall  soon  come  to  the 
time  when  our  reason  will  be  of  little  use  to  us,  and 
when  our  imagination  will  be  our  delight.  Meantime, 
let  us  remember  the  blessings  we  have  had,  and  forget 
the  disappointments.  Let  us  cherish  the  faith  that  has 
been  our  constant  helper. 

We  wish  you  many  more  anniversaries,  and  all  the 
366 


APPENDIX 

joys  and  pleasures  that  can  come  into  your  home  and 
into  your  lives. 

It  would  give  us  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to  be  with 
you  on  the  twenty-eighth  day  of  November,  but  it 
seems  to  be  practically  impossible.  We  will  celebrate 
here,  in  California. 

Sincerely,  your  friends, 

GEORGE  W.  STONE, 
KATE  STONE. 

THE  REPLY 

December  first, 
Nineteen  sixteen. 
MY  DEAR  GEORGE  AND  KATE  : 

Your  lovely  message  was  a  surprise  to  us  and  gave 
us  all  much  pleasure.  It  held  an  important  place  in  the 
ceremonies  at  the  close  of  the  feast  and  was  greatly 
appreciated  by  the  guests  as  well  as  by  us. 

Nineteen  of  the  elders  sat  at  the  main  table,  the  next 
generations  in  the  hall  and  parlor.  The  youngsters  had 
a  splendid  time  in  the  parlor  feasting  on  the  good  things. 
They  were  hilarious  to  a  degree,  especially  when  the 
ice  cream  came  on  in  different  form  on  each  plate. 

Of  the  original  wedding  party  of  eight,  including 
us,  all  were  present  but  one  and  nearly  all  of  them  en- 
joying good  health.  I  tell  you  it  was  a  great  time,  words 
fail  to  do  justice  to  it.  Flowers — we  were  nearly  buried 
in  them.  Yellow  electric  bulbs  lit  up  the  stairway  from 
the  first  floor  to  the  third.  Several  messages  besides 
yours,  mostly  brief  ones,  were  received  and  read  with  a 
poem  by  C.  F.  J.  Emily  did  the  reading,  and  she  made 
them  all  plain.  She  also  read  a  sketch  that  I  wrote 
concerning  our  courtship  and  early  married  life,  a  copy 
of  which  I  intend  to  send  you  shortly.  It  was  a  happy 
thought  of  yours  to  celebrate  with  us  at  the  same  hour, 
and  I  am  sure  that  our  guests  felt  that  it  was  so.  Wife 

367 


APPENDIX 

had  been  having  quite  a  severe  attack  of  bronchitis  but 
was  pretty  well  recovered  from  it  by  the  day.  All  the 
rest  well  as  usual. 

You  ought  to  have  seen  the  display  of  the  wedding 
presents  of  the  long  ago.  They  were  spread  out  on  a 
table  on  the  third  floor  and  created  much  interest.  Each 
one  was  labeled  with  the  donor's  name.  There  were 
four  pathetic  pieces  of  china,  remains  of  a  dinner  set, 
and  there  were  fragments  of  what  the  bride  wore,  in- 
cluding her  slippers,  veil  and  orange  blossoms.  Every 
one  appreciates  to  the  fullest  your  thought  in  remem- 
bering us  so  graciously  and  gracefully. 
Affectionately  yours, 

WILMER  ATKINSON. 


TO   UNCLE   WILMER   AND  AUNT   ANNA  ON   THEIR 
GOLDEN  WEDDING  DAY 

W.  A.,  W.  A. 

We  see  these  initials  almost  every  day, 

Two  useful  good  letters  and  what  do  they  say? 

W.  A.,  W.  A. 

All  really  great  men  have  two  initials  this  way; 
It  is  the  first  step  toward  wearing  the  bay, 
As  a  glance  at  Fame's  temple  will  quickly  display — 
Washington,  Franklin,  Adams  and  Jay. 

W.  A.,  W.  A. 

Jefferson,  Jackson,  Lincoln  and  Hay, 
Dave  Crocket,  Sam  Houston  and  good  Asa  Gray, 
Grover  Cleveland,  Roosevelt,  and  Woodrow,  they  say, 
Each  lost  one  of  their  names  to  be  listed  this  way. 

W.  A.,  W.  A. 

It  is  reported  that  this  is  thy  wedding  day, 
And  to  come  to  the  point  without  further  delay 
And  be  as  explicit  and  brief  as  I  may, 
I  will  show  the  true  meaning  of  W.  A. .' 

368 


APPENDIX 

W.  A.,  W.  A. 

When  Wilmer  came  back  one  early  spring  day, 

From  the  mix-ups  and  fights  of  the  blue  and  the  gray, 

He  hadn't  a  job,  nor  sure,  steady  pay, 

But,  on  the  farm,  he  declared  he  never  would  stay. 

W.  A.,  W.  A. 

So  off  to  the  city  he  hastened  away, 
No  potatoes  he'd  pick,  or  orchards  he'd  spray. 
No  plow  handles  for  him,  no  making  of  hay, 
But  the  strenuous  life  of  the  city,  and  gay. 

W.  A.,  W.  A. 

One  evening  while  resting  from  the  toil  of  the  day, 

"  Tom  "  Burr  came  around  to  offer  some  play. 

Insisted  that  they  should  go  over  the  way 

To  Sheriff  Allen's  abode,  and  he  wouldn't  take  nay. 

W.  A.,  W.  A. 

From  the  rhyme  on  thy  letter  I  should  now  get  away 
For  a  handsome  young  lady  here  enters  my  lay ; 
But,  alas,  'tis  a  fact,  the  rhythm  must  stay, 
For  he  fell  straight  in  love  with  young  Anna  A. 

W.  A.,  W.  A. 

'Twas  a  day  in  November  quite  solemn  and  grey, 
When  Anna  made  promise  that  she  would  obey, 
Still  only  two  letters  are  brought  into  play, 
And  "  Wilmer  "  and  "  Anna  "  the  initials  now  say. 

W.  &  A.,  W.  &  A. 

A  half  century  now  comes  to  you  to-day, 
Father  Time  has  besprinkled  you  some  with  his  grey, 
But  youth  in  your  hearts  will  linger  alway. 
And  the  golden  chain  tightens  as  the  links  wear  away. 
24  369 


APPENDIX 

W.  &  A.,  W.  &  A. 

We  wish,  one  and  all,  our  love  to  convey. 

May  Heaven's  best  blessings  rest  on  you  to-day 

And  may  to  the  last — yes,  forever  and  aye, 

Be  the  two  joined  together,  W.  A. ! 

CHARLES  F.  JENKINS. 
Philadelphia, 
nth  Month  28th,  1916. 


THE   GOLDEN    MILESTONE 

The  Fiftieth  milestone  has  been  safely  reached, 
By  two  who  gaily  started  hand  in  hand, 

To  fare  along  the  road  where  none  return — 
A  road  that  stretches  through  an  unknown  land. 

Sometimes  it  winds  through  meadows,  honey-sweet, 
And  through  lowly  valleys,  shadow-dim, 

Then  o'er  the  uplands  where  glad  breezes  blow, 
But  ever  leading  toward  the  world's  far  rim. 

Few  reach  this  golden  milestone,  who  set  out 

In  youth's  bright  spring  to  tread  this  strange  life-way, 

For  partings  come ;  but,  oh,  how  sweetly  blest, 
If  hand  in  hand  they  greet  this  Happy  Day. 

EMMA  A.  E.  LENTE. 


LETTER  AND  POEM  FROM  WALTER  G.  DOTY 

DEAR  MR.  ATKINSON: 

The  enclosed  verses  are  intended  for  printing  pur- 
poses or  for  your  own  private,  home  consumption,  as 
you  prefer — in  either  case,  with  the  compliments  of 
the  author. 

My  wife  joins  me  in  wishing  for  you  and  Mrs. 
370 


APPENDIX 

Atkinson  all  manner  of  good  luck  and  happiness,  with 
many  more  years  of  usefulness  and  health  and  profit. 

Yours  very  truly, 

14  State  Street,  WALTER  G.  DOTY. 

Hornell,  New  York, 
October  26,  1916. 

TO  THE  BRIDE  AND  GROOM 

It's  vexing  when  a  fellow  wants  the  muse  to  do  its  best 

To  find  the  stubborn  animal  determined  on  a  rest. 

I  told  the  muse  to  rouse  itself  and  sing  right  lustily — 

As  it  had  never  sung  before — an  anniversary, 
The  golden  wedding  of  a  twain  respected  far  and  wide. 
"  Oh  yes,  I  know — the  Atkinsons,"  the  lazy  muse 

replied. 

"  I  couldn't  do  it  justice ;  you'd  expect  a  lot  too  much. 
Walt  Mason's  muse  itself  would  fail  of  just  the 

proper  touch." 
So  then  I  kicked  it  round  the  room  and  put  it  on  its 

shelf, 
And  these  poor  lines  that  follow  here  I  hammered 

out  myself. 

A  million  homes  unite  to-day  in  message  of  good  will, 
And  prayers  for  all  that's  best  in  life  four  million 

bosoms  fill. 
For  lives  well  spent,   for  work  well  done,   for  fine 

example  set, 
Our  thanks  are  yours,  O  worthy  twain!    If  there  is 

one  regret 

'Tis  merely  that  we  cannot  each  in  person  this  glad  day 
Be  with  you  to  express  in  speech  the  all  we'd  like 

to  say. 

From  North  and  South,  from  East  and  West  felicita- 
tions pour, 

With  hopes  that  you  may  still  go  on  and  make  it 
fifty  more !  WALTER  G.  DOTY. 


APPENDIX 

LETTER   AND   POEM    FROM    LYDIA  M.   D.   O'NEIL 

Corona,  New  Mexico, 

October  28,  1916. 
Mr.  Wilmer  Atkinson, 

Philadelphia,  Pa. 
DEAR  MR.  ATKINSON  : 

Mr.  O'Neil  and  myself  beg  to  congratulate  you  and 
Mrs.  Atkinson  upon  your  long  wedded  life,  and  to  ex- 
press the  wish  that  the  occasion  of  your  anniversary 
may  be  a  very  joyous  one  indeed. 
I  am  very  truly  yours, 

LYDIA  M.  D.  O'NEIL. 
P.  O.  Box  91. 

FIFTY  GOLDEN  YEARS 

With  hands  close-clasped  and  lovelit  eyes, 

We  watched  the  first  snow  falling; 
We  heard  the  dead  leaves  swirling  past, 

The  north  wind's  noisy  brawling. 
And  all  the  snows  of  fifty  years 

We  two  have  watched  together; 
And  now,  as  then,  Love  rules  our  hearts, 

And  laughs  at  wintry  weather. 

And  fifty  times  the  rose  hath  bloomed, 

The  happy  robins  nested ; 
And  we  have  sung,  and  we  have  wept, 

And  dreamed,  and  toiled  and  rested. 
Though  all  too  swift  the  stream  of  Time 

Hath  swept,  and  still  is  sweeping, 
We  still  are  young  within  our  hearts, 

Where  Love  his  watch  is  keeping. 
372 


APPENDIX 

And  hand  in  hand,  in  loving  faith, 

We've  met  each  joy  and  sorrow; 
And  hand  in  hand  to-day  we  stand, 

And  pledge  the  glad  to-morrow. 
And  hand  in  hand,  dear  heart  of  mine, 

In  bright  or  stormy  weather, 
Adown  the  sunset  slope  of  life, 

Please  God,  we'll  go  together. 

LYDIA  M.  D.  O'NEiL. 


A  LETTER  TO  THE  FARM  JOURNAL  FOLKS 

December  First,       , 
Nineteen  Sixteen. 
MY  DEAR  FARM  JOURNAL  FOLKS: 

It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  celebrate  our  Golden 
Wedding  anniversary  by  sending  us  the  affectionate 
little  note  and  the  splendid  large  cluster  of  fifty  golden 
flowers,  and  Mrs.  Atkinson  and  myself  thank  you  most 
heartily  for  the  remembrances. 

Occasionally  I  hear  some  of  you  say  that  I  have 
been  kind  to  you,  but  I  know  I  have  never  been  half  so 
kind  to  you  as  you  have  been  and  are  to  me.  You 
have  my  warm  affection  and  I  shall  not  forget  your 
gracious  part  in  our  anniversary. 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

WILMER  ATKINSON. 


THE   STORY   OF  THE  BINOCULARS 

Notwithstanding  the  request  "  no  gifts,"  the  bride 
and  groom  were  the  happy  recipients  of  quite  a  few 
very  handsome  ones.  Among  the  gifts  to  the  groom 

373 


APPENDIX 

was  a  pair  of  binoculars  which  he  valued  highly,  his 
former  ones  having  been  stolen.  When  in  January, 
1918,  came  the  urgent  call  from  the  United  States  Navy 
for  field  glasses  "  to  aid  in  the  winning  of  the  war  "  he 
offered  his.  They  were  eagerly  accepted  by  the  Gov- 
ernment and  were  in  constant  service  until  the  close  of 
the  war.  In  August,  1919,  they  came  safely  back  to 
him  with  a  metal  tag  attached  thereto  bearing  the  in- 
scription, "  Donated  to  the  United  States  Navy,"  and 
bearing  also  his  name  and  address  and  the  number, 
"  2890."  A  handsomely  engraved  certificate  of  appre- 
ciation also  accompanied  the  glasses,  thus  greatly  en- 
hancing their  value,  as  they  had  not  been  in  the  least- 
wise damaged  by  their  little  excursion  on  the  high  seas. 


A  R£SUM£  OF  THE  TWO  REMAINING 
CHAPTERS 

Of  the  two  remaining  chapters  which  were  unfin- 
ished, "  Work-Play-Rest-Sleep-Moderation-Health- 
Longevity  "  and  "  Observations  of  an  Octogenarian," 
much  might  be  written;  for  our  husband  and  father 
was  an  ardent  devotee  of  all  out-door  games  and  other 
activities,  not  only  because  he  valued  exercise  from  the 
standpoint  of  health  and  as  a  duty  every  man  owes 
himself  who  would  keep  physically  and  mentally  fit, 
but  because  it  gave  him  the  keenest  pleasure  to  indulge 
in  competitive  sports  of  every  description. 

He  often  told  of  how  at  school  his  playmates  always 
tired  before  he  had  half  begun.  No  matter  what  his 
age  may  happen  to  have  been,  be  it  the  age  for  hurdling 
the  clothes-basket  on  the  boyhood  farm,  for  corner- 
ball  in  school  days,  for  quoits,  bowling,  tennis,  bicycling, 
roque  or  golf  (which  latter  he  took  up  in  his  seventy- 
fifth  year),  he  always  threw  himself  into  the  game 

374 


APPENDIX 

with  the  greatest  zest  and  enthusiasm  and  always  with 
the  determination  to  improve  his  score. 

He  thus  continued  throughout  his  long  and  busy  life 
to  keep  his  body  up  to  the  highest  possible  standard  of 
health  and  endurance  without  which  he  would  have 
been  unable  to  carry,  as  he  did,  the  great  burden  of  his 
exacting  work  over  an  active  business  period  of  fifty- 
five  years.  Thus  exercise,  judiciously  intermingled 
with  ample  sleep — for  he  was  always  a  good  sleeper — 
and  a  simple,  nourishing  diet  in  which  apples  played 
a  prominent  part,  kept  him  happy,  healthy  and  fit 
for  the  battle  of  life  at  all  times. 

His  observations  of  people  and  things,  as  he  neared 
the  eightieth  milestone,  grew  increasingly  broader  and 
more  all-embracing.  He  believed  that  "  the  years 
don't  make  us  young  or  old,  save  as  the  outward 
signs  are  told;  the  swift  years  come  and  then  depart, 
but  age  or  youth  is  in  the  heart." 

His  viewrs  may  perhaps  be  best  expressed  in  the 
following  short  poem  by  Helen  A.  Saxon,  and  which 
he  had  intended  to  incorporate  in  the  last  chapter  of  the 
book  and  with  which  we  will  close. 

More  lovely  grcws  the  earth  as  we  grow  old. 

More  tenderness  is  in  each  dawning  spring; 
More  bronze  upon  the  blackbird's  burnished  wing; 

In  deeper  Mue  ;.he  violets  enfold; 
More  lavish  is  the  autumn's  spread  of  gold. 

And  with  half -conscious  joy  each  living  thing 
For  very  love  its  treasure  seems  to  bring, 

Entreating  us  its  beauty  to  behold. 
Or  is  it  that  with  years  we  grow  more  wise, 

And  reverent  to  the  mystery  profound — 
Withheld  from  hasty  or  indifferent  eyes — 

That  broods  in  simple  things  the  wrorld  around 
And  breaks  to  loveliness  that  glorifies 

And  makes  of  common  pathways  holy  ground? 
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